


of sunsets and stardust

by wanheidaas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: + 100 Crew, + She works at a Gallery, AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Clarke is kinda sad, Clarke likes to paint, Clarke's POV, Did I mention there's lots of Clexa?, Drunk Texting, F/F, I wrote this to cope, Lexa is kinda sad too, Lexa was a soldier, Light Angst, Modern Setting, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Snapchat, Some Fluff, Tension, Texting, They make each other happy, They're cute dorks falling in Love, They're made of stardust, Will update tags as fic continues, clexa au, lots of tension, so much Clexa, texting fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:31:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanheidaas/pseuds/wanheidaas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She paints a picture of the stars as she dreamed them. It's a black sky with white stars but there's some red in there, and somewhere in all of it she blends in a pale shade of green and somehow it works and then she's smiling. Freely, happily - and there's no sadness or hesitation. It feels good, it feels new. She finishes, leaves in search of her phone and sends her little piece of the stars to hedalexa. \ "Now I don't have to dream of the stars, I can just look at your art and see them."</p>
<p>// a modern AU, Clexa texting fic that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before reading this you should know: this fic is mixed between texting and social media (like skype, snapchat, emails + telephone calls) and Clarke's real life interaction. Each chapter will be different, and though this started as a primarily texting AU there's lots of real life elements and interactions to it as you'll get a glimpse of in this chapter. This fic is written in Clarke's POV and I've loved writing it through her eyes.
> 
> Oh, and one more thing -- this fic/the format of it was inspired by the amazing Hawksilver (avengers/mcu) fic called "Sweet talker" by clintspietro. If you're in the MCU fandom or you're looking for a good fic to read, check it out!

Clarke | _Lexa_

and this means someone is typing; .. **..**

 

***  


MONDAY - 21 MARCH

 

 

Clarke dreams of a sunset again.  
  
It isn't a simple or average kind of sunset, and it's not the one she sees on her afternoon walks home in the city. It's a wild sunset; beautiful, and raw, and orange. Free. Unconstrained, and unrestricted by the skyline of the city.

Her fingers itch to sketch it, to draw it down, so when she wakes that's the first thing she does. She sketches it first, draws the outline, the different shades and the way certain parts linger with the others. Then she paints it. Still in her PJ's, and knowing that this will make her late for work, she paints the sunset on her old art book. She could use another one but she keeps it, because it looks just like the one her dad gave her when she was a little kid. Sometimes she'll find a spare page in the book her dad gave her, but it's mostly filled now and there's definitely not enough room for this sunset in that book.  
  
The sunset doesn't turn out exactly like she imagined it, but sometimes it doesn't, and that's okay. It's a little blurred, the paint dries a little awkwardly in spots - again, she blames the book because it's old and some of the corners and sections have been ruined in spots, from water, or paint that has seeped through on her messier jobs, or those nights where she just painted like she didn't have a care in the world. It's kind of like that now, she doesn't care, she just wants it to be like she pictured it, but part of her does care.  
  
Slowly, Clarke's fingers direct the brush across the page, curving it gently before stepping away to let it dry for a while. It isn't finished, she hasn't finished a lot of her art in a while but it's still something. An incomplete beauty, she thinks, and leaves it to dry on the nightstand.  
  
The sunset in the city isn't like the one she dreamed of, the one she often dreams of. It's still nice, it has it's own kind of beauty to it. But it feels restricted in a way that Clarke doesn't like, a way she's never liked, but she's still here.  
  
She finds cereal in one of the cupboards outside, fills a bowl and plops down on to a chair next to the counter. Clarke chews on the cereal while her eyes scan over yesterday's paper. In the distance she hears music playing, it sounds like it's coming next door, or maybe it's coming from the boys across the hall. It isn't too loud, it doesn't bother her. She likes it, because it's almost like a weird constant in her life. She can always rely on the people that live in her apartment complex to be the same; loud, noisy, and fun. Sometimes fun, and sometimes annoying.  
  
The clock reads **9:03 AM**. She knows she'll be late, and today's going to be a busy day with all of the showings and private clients coming in to see the pieces of art. Clarke decides on finishing her cereal first because she'll need it to get through the day. She notices she's low on cereal and starts to write a note, of things she needs to pick up on her way home from work this afternoon - and things she'll need to do, eventually. On the list she writes 'Call or text mom back.' Then she adds several question marks and a small drawing of a sunflower next to it, because sunflowers are actually on her list of things to get. They brighten up her otherwise dull apartment.  
  
It's small, very simple. The kitchen and living room are in the same space, when you walk in the door there they are on the left side of the apartment. The kitchen is small but filled with the necessities, and she's sure if she used it more she'd find it actually kind of great. She sticks to her regular meals, the ones she knows she can cook, and take out. The living room is small, sort of. There's a long, orange couch not far from the kitchen stools near the bench. So it's fairly close to each other. It's not like she's ever had a problem with space, or with it being too small though, since she's always lived alone here. The TV is a good size - it's big enough to watch documentaries on, and all of those shows she binge watches in a few sittings. There's a tall brown bookshelf beside the TV which is filled with books and random ornaments. To brighten things up, she keeps splashes of color everywhere. Whether it's her own art or someone else's, she hangs it up. There's usually flowers around, though she often forgets to water them and they wither and die - which isn't great when she's looking for more color and vibrant in her apartment.  
  
To the right of the apartment, past the bookshelf and the small table, there's a set of french doors that she fell in love with from the start, and they open up to her bedroom. From inside there there's a walk in bathroom that's small but comfortable.  
  
Clarke ends up in the bathroom a few minutes later, brushing her teeth and tying up her curls into some sort of messy but professional style. It ends up braided in parts, but it looks neat and that's what she needs for today. Her bedroom's a little bit of a mess right now, Clarke sifts through the clothes at the end of her bed that she'd tried on for work yesterday, but had changed out of at the last minute. They look better today, they feel nice.  
  
She settles on a pair of clean, black jeans. A patterned dark blue lace shirt, and a blue jacket. It's the end of winter after all, it's not too warm, and not too cold, and this is her favorite jacket so she decides to wear it today. For luck, maybe. She's closing the gallery at 1 to show a new, important client around so Clarke decides she needs all the luck she can get and goes with the jacket.  
  
On her way out of the apartment Clarke makes sure to check the fridge and cupboards for anything she might need, she writes down a few more things, then shoves the note into her bag, grabs her keys and phone and leaves, sort of prepared for today. She's spent the last week building herself up for this, but it's not like she's not prepared. It isn't like she has no experience in this job. It's not her art that she's selling, and it's not her gallery - she just works there, helps sell the art, attract new interest, and show specific buyers around. It's not exactly where she thought she'd be, five years ago when she thought about it, but it's better than it could be. It's enough, or she has to at least believe it is because it helps her get through the long days.  
  
There's a nice cafe on the corner of the block up ahead of hers, she walks there most mornings when she feels like a nice coffee or warm mug of hot chocolate, and sometimes even a little snack or pastry on the way to work. It's the end of winter now but it's still chilly out. Clarke's eyes scan the sky of the city - what she can see, over the tall, looming chrome and grey buildings - while she waits for her coffee. In the summer they serve the best chilled drinks here; like smoothies, milkshakes, and delicious chilled creations that are the reason she's a regular here. Now that she thinks about it, or looks inside while she waits at the outside queue on the pavement, Arcadia isn't small at all. It just feels like it is sometimes, it feels cozy, and comfortable and she feels like home here sometimes.

Nights are fun here. Arcadia is complex; by day, they serve breakfast and lunch meals with drinks ranging from coffee to cocktails and creations from the owners and staff. By night, it turns into an escape and becomes a bar. Never a rowdy one, there are never fights and when there are they're usually outsiders. The regulars get along, it feels electric here some nights. Arcadia has two levels - she used to think it was crazy for something to be this complex, but it's not. The first level is the bar/cafe, the long wooden benches of the bar wrap around the tall glass and metal stands piled with items ranging from breakfast necessities like coffee beans and the proper glasses, as well as a range of liquors and glasses for the night life. The serving area of the Arcadia takes up the entire right side of the building, almost. There's a fairly large gap at the end, where the kitchen door and pass stand, and all sorts of delicious creations come out of there.

The rest of the room is a mix of circular wooden tables and vintage, stylish chairs, to benches and booths. It's a pretty mess. There's artwork and photographs over most of the walls, and there are large, square windows that let a lot of light in - and both of those things bring a lot more life to the place. In the winter it bursts with warmth and a strange sort of love, and in the summer it oozes a freshness she hasn't really found anywhere else in the city yet. Not like Arcadia. In the back of the Arcadia, there's a comfortable little bookstore filled with plump cushions and long chairs. It's a part of the cafe that runs non-stop too. Clarke often finds herself in the library, reading, or drawing new books in a comfortable seat near a window, or next to the electric wallpaper.

The second level of the Arcadia is the accommodation, Clarke's stayed there a few times, mostly when she was having trouble with rent or was in need of temporary accommodation. The accommodation is nice, like the rest of the building. It's always busy though, and most days the rooms or the seats are booked out. Today, Clarke's lucky that she caught the line to the outside queue as quickly as she did. The coffee's still warm when she receives it, she pays for it and then she's on her way to work.

Clarke checks her watch again and sighs, knowing she'll definitely be late now. It's not really avoidable, she starts to think - starts to prepare herself to think so she can explain to her boss why she's late again. It's been a bad habit lately, but her dissatisfaction with work and her current situation slowly trickled into her work. She can't help it, she just needs to find a way to deal with it or get past it.

_The job isn't that bad_ , she reminds herself. The coffee tastes delicious like it always does, she keeps walking to work through the sea of people passing her by. Clarke's eyes catch on the skyline in the distance and remembers the one from her dreams, the one she painted and left at the end of her bed. _It could be worse._

 

  
***

 

 

It's another rough day. Clarke can still hear the music or some sort of noise coming from the apartment complex when she arrives home. It's almost eight, it's later than usual but the traffic was terrible and she was kept back at the Gallery longer then expected. Her head aches from the afternoon at work, and the trip home VIA the store didn't exactly go to plan either. But she doesn't care about the music at all, it kind of just fades away into the background right now - and she really doesn't want to think about the trip to the store and that stupid argument with that lady over shopping carts and aisle space.

Once she's inside her apartment, Clarke basically shoves _everything_ away into the fridge regardless of what is it. She begins to strip out of her clothes but then she remembers the things that don't really belong in the fridge like toothpaste and hair-clips, and she returns to retrieve them and put them away where they belong. Clarke ends up leaving everything that doesn't go inside the fridge on the bench, she decides she'll pack them away later and she retreats to the shower.

It feels warm and it soothes out the slight muscle pains she gets sometimes, from standing all day and following horrid clients around. The headache remains, she dips her head back beneath the strong stream of water and gently massages at her head. 

Work didn't go well, from the moment Sandra - or Sasha, or whatever her name was - arrived there, she was awful. And she had the nerve to complain to Clarke's boss about her. It was something about Clarke not being helpful enough or patient enough, or something made up like that since Clarke had known from the moment they met that she hadn't liked her. Sasha had been rude from the start, and she had slowly worn out Clarke's patience.

The warm water is nice for a while, Clarke tries to push out all thoughts of work but they always linger. She knows she'll need to get into work on time tomorrow because she can't risk arriving late after today's situation. Her boss is kind, sometimes. But it only stretches so far, and she's determined to make sure everything at the Gallery continues to run smoothly. Clarke knows she'll have to be on her best behavior for the next few weeks until things calm down.

Clarke dresses in comfortable clothes after her shower and makes a lazy attempt at cleaning up her room, but she ends up giving up and marking it as something she'll ' _definitely do tomorrow'._ There's always something on that list, lately. Like call Mom back, or send her a text. She leaves the bedroom in the almost tidy state and leaves for the kitchen, her slightly damp feet pad across the wooden floorboards leaving faint footprints behind her.

On the way to the kitchen Clarke switches the TV on for some background noise. Her phone makes a noise on the couch where she left it, she picks it up and drops it down on to the kitchen counter to look at in later, after aspirin and water- but she doesn't reach for aspirin or water right away, because the little green bubble that pops up on her phone screen catches her attention.

 

 

_[9:01 PM]:_

_I swear to all the gods that if you don't stop what you're doing, I'll get angrier. Is that something you want?_

 

 

For a minute Clarke just stares at the screen. Then she blinks at it slowly, her forehead now knitted into a frown. She begins to type up her reply but stops, deletes it and tries again. It doesn't really work because she doesn't really know what she's supposed to stay back. Clarke finishes the drink next to her, then picks up her phone to reply - but the screen lights up with another message before she's even opened the first one.

 

 

_[9:12 PM]:  
_

_Do you think this is some sort of game to me?_

 

_[9:12 PM]:_

_This isn't a game, Anya  
_

 

 

Clarke frown remains twisted into a forehead - a mix of her confusion and her bad headache. She decides to reply, then find some aspirin and water. The aspirin doesn't have an instant effect, of course it doesn't. She just wishes tonight it would. Clarke returns to her phone, leans forward on the bench a little and stares at the screen as a reply comes in.

 

 

[9:15 PM]:

I'm sorry but you have the wrong number. This isn't Anya.

 

 

_[9:16 PM]:_

_What do you mean?_

 

_[9:17 PM]:_

_Is this another one of your games, Anya?_

 

 

[9:25 PM]:

Again, I'm sorry but you have the wrong number. I don't know what you expect me to say, but this really isn't Anya.

 

 

_[9:27 PM]:_

_This can't be right. I just spoke with her._

 

 

[9:30 PM]:

Not through this number.

 

 

Suddenly Clarke's phone lights up with an incoming call with a caller ID that she doesn't recognize. She hits the red button to end the call, then reaches for her glass of water. _Bzzzz_. Another message comes through, followed quickly by another. She lifts a hand to her forehead and massages out the creased lines.

 

 

_[9:32 PM]:_

_Anya??_

 

_[9:33 PM]:_

_I'm tired of your games, Anya._

 

 

[9:35 PM]:

Look I'm sorry but this really isn't Anya. My name's Clarke

 

[9:36 PM]:

I have no idea who you are. Or who Anya is. Please don't call me again.

 

 

Clarke ends up on the couch shortly after replying to the stranger. She leaves the glass of water nearby in reach, and picks up a book to sketch but she just doesn't feel like it tonight, not with a headache this bad. Instead of sketching she switches out the lights, stretches out on the couch and finds an old rerun of something to watch. Or fall asleep to. Shortly after she's comfortable, her phone vibrates on the table beside her and she makes a weak effort to pick it up. Three new messages come in.

 

 

_[9:45 PM]:_

_Really?_

 

_[9:47 PM]:_

_This is my mistake then, and I'm sorry._

 

_[9:47 PM]:_

_My phone was stolen, I thought I had the right number. I'm sorry._

 

 

[9:51 PM]:

That's okay. And I'm really sorry about your phone, I hope you find it. Good-luck finding Anya.

 

 

_[9:52 PM]:_

_I doubt it, I was mugged. It was dark, they were fast. And thank you...Though she's probably wishing I won't find her._

 

 

[10:02 PM]:

Oh my god. Are you joking?

 

[10:02 PM]:

You have to be kidding.

 

 

_[10:05 PM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[10:06 PM]:_

_Why would I joke about muggings?_

 

_[10:07 PM]:_

_It happened. They happen to people a lot. It's very serious.  
_

 

It happens again. Clarke's not entirely sure how to answer this. She's not sure why she does, it's a strange situation to be in. With this person she doesn't know that was mugged, and is angry and looking for someone called Anya. But eventually, she replies regardless of how weird it all feels at first.

 

 

[10:15 PM]:

It's just that you're...Very weirdly calm while talking about a mugging.

 

[10:16 PM]:

It's just a little weird. How calm you are. That's all..

 

[10:16 PM]:

I'm sorry, I really didn't think it was a joke. It's just weird.

 

 

_[10:17 PM]:_

_Yes, I know it's weird. That's the third time you've said that in the space of a few minutes.  
_

 

_[10:17 PM]:_

_It was fine, I've had worse. It wasn't serious. Who knows? I might find him after all._

 

_[10:18 PM]:_

_Thank you for your concern though, Clarke. And I'm sorry for disturbing your night._

 

 

[10:21 PM]:

And I thought I had a bad day...

 

[10:21 PM]:

It's okay. I'm sorry I wasn't the person you're looking for.

 

[10:24 PM]:

Goodluck with everything.

 

 

_[10:31 PM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[10:37 PM]:  
_

_Why did you have a bad day?_

 

_[10:38 PM]:_

_Were you also mugged?_

 

 

[10:41 PM]:

What? You were mugged today, and your first priority is to replace your phone?

 

[10:41 PM]:

You have to go to a hospital if you're injured. And you should report it.

 

 

_[10:45 PM]:_

_No, not today. I really am fine, I've had worse._

 

_[10:46 PM]:_

_It happened yesterday._

 

_[10:51 PM]:_

_So tell me about your bad day._

 

_[10:59 PM]:_

_I'm in some pain, I could use the distraction from my rage._

 

 

[11:01 PM]:

You sound like you still need medical attention. Are you sure you're ok?

 

[11:02 PM]:

And if you don't mind me asking...Why so much rage?

 

 

_[11:08 PM]:_

_What was bad about your day?_

 

 

[11:14 PM]:

Well, for starters I had a pretty bad argument with an old lady at the store.

 

 

_[11:15 PM]:_

_How bad was it?_

 

 

[11:17 PM]:

There was yelling - from both of us. And people were looking.

 

 

_[11:18 PM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[11:21 PM]:  
_

_Was she family or a stranger?_

 

 

[11:26 PM]:

It was over the shopping carts. It sounds stupid.

 

[11:27 PM]:

And she wasn't family. Just a very angry stranger.

 

 

_[11:35 PM]:_

_It doesn't sound that bad._

 

 

[11:38 PM]:

Really?

 

[11:41 PM]:

People were staring at me like I hulked out and turned green.

 

[11:41 PM]:

But they didn't hear the things that she said to me.

 

 

Clarke ends up turning off the TV and retreating into the comfortable blankets over her bed. She sets her alarm, takes a little more aspirin because her headache still won't disappear, and then she slips beneath the covers of her bed. For a few minutes she starts to doze off, she thinks she's almost asleep but then her phone vibrates on the nightstand and she still finds herself reaching for it.

She has to be up early tomorrow, there's still things she needs to get from the store and her apartment _really_ needs a clean up. Not the entire apartment really, it's just her bedroom and the scattered clothes she didn't end up wearing for the past week. They ended up on her floor. There's things she wants to do before leaving for work tomorrow, and even though she knows she should try to go to sleep, she still turns her phone over to see another green bubble on the screen.

 

 

_[11:51 PM]:_

_It sounds justified, Clarke._

 

 

[11:52 PM]:

Really? Kinda feels like you're judging me. With all that silence.

 

[11:52 PM]:

You weren't there, you don't know what she was like.

 

 

_[11:58 PM]:_

_No judgement._

 

_[11:58 PM]:_

_Yes, it does sound justified._

 

_[11:59 PM]:_

_But that really depends on who you're talking to._

 

 

Now, pushing the thoughts about her own day out of her head, Clarke settles more comfortable in the bed with her phone above her hands. She types up a reply and then another, then watches as a green bubble pops up on the screen again.

 

 

[12:02 AM]:

Good point..

 

[12:03 AM]:

You know, you never did tell me your name.

 

 

_[12:03 AM]:_

_It's Lexa._

 

 

[12:06 AM]:

Ok, Lexa. Why so much rage to Anya?

 

[12:06 AM]:

I'm just curious. Your first messages to me were pretty tense.

 

 

_[12:25 AM]:_

_Again, that was my mistake. I'm sorry about that._

 

_[12:26 AM]:_

_It's late and it's a very long story, Clarke. And it really doesn't matter._

 

_[12:29 AM]:_

_But thank you for clearing things up, I'll try a few more numbers to reach Anya._

 

_[12:31 AM]:_

_And thank you for your story, it was a welcomed distraction._

 

 

[12:35 AM]:

That's okay, I hope you laughed at my bad day.

 

[12:35 AM]:

Thanks for the chat, Lexa. Good-luck with everything

 

[12:36 AM]:

And make sure to go back to the hospital if you don't feel better.

 

 

_[12:41 AM]:_

_Yes, Clarke. I will. I wish you good luck with things too._

 

_[12:41 PM]:_

_..like avoiding ladies with shopping carts._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, wow! Thank you so much for the kudos, hits, comments + bookmarks! ♡ It means so much and I'm so happy (and surprised) by it all. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. :)

Clarke | _Lexa_

and this means someone is typing; .. **..**

 

***

WEDNESDAY - 23 MARCH

 

 

[1:03 PM]:

Ok, I was your distraction so now be mine.

 

 

The message is gone before Clarke fully realizes who she's sending it to. She can't explain why she wanted to send it at all, she doesn't really know herself, and she doesn't have the time to change or remedy the situation because it's done now and all that she can do is wait for a reply. Carefully, Clarke manages to slide her phone out of sight on the front desk where she's waiting. The gallery is open and busy, but it's just another normal day and there are other staff on today too so it's not just Clarke, and the floor isn't her responsibility right now. She's at the front desk, taking the occasional calls, replying to emails, and getting distracted by people and the colors of the sky that pass her by through the large glass doors and windows of the gallery.

It doesn't help that it's in the middle of a _very_ busy street, and every day she watches people moving on, carrying on with their lives, and that sometimes she thinks about their lives and then she thinks about her own. She doesn't always watch them, Clarke often drifts away while staring at the pieces of art on the walls inside. But her taste is a little different to some of the pieces in here. Of course she never says so, but it is, and she can't help but imagine stripping away all of their art from the walls and hanging hers up instead. It sounds selfish when she thinks about it, she doesn't want to take away anyone else's art. Sometimes she just wishes hers was out there too.

Well-hidden on her desk, Clarke's phone lights up with a green bubble several minutes later when she's halfway through talking to a client on the main phone. She ignores her message, brings the call to an end, then stretches to hit the middle button so it will light up and show her a preview of the message. She reads it, then unlocks her phone to read the rest of the reply. It both intrigues and confuses her.

 

 

_[1:15 PM]:_

_I don't understand.  
_

 

_[1:16 PM]:_

_Who is this?_

 

 

[1:18 PM]:

Are you kidding?

 

[1:19 PM]:

It's Clarke. We talked two days ago.

 

[1:24 PM]:

You thought that I was Anya. Remember?

 

 

_[1:28 PM]:_

_Oh, yes..Clarke. What is it? How can I help you?_

 

 

[1:31 PM]:

Um, I don't know. Maybe read my message again?

 

[1:32 PM]:

I was your distraction from the pain. Now I need one.

 

 

_[1:36 PM]:_

_Are you in pain?_

 

 

[1:45 PM]:

No, I'm at work. Which is sort of like being in pain, I guess.

 

[1:51 PM]:

Look, I just thought because I helped distract you that you might distract me.

 

 

After sending the last message Clarke looks down at her screen and considers typing more. She considers elaborating and explaining that right now she doesn't exactly feel like she has anyone else to distract her, and when she needed someone to text, to distract her from her work, she thought of the stranger. She thought of _Lexa_ , for a reason she doesn't fully understand right now. Most of her friends are too busy, or it's been too long since they've talked and it would feel weird. Clarke just needs a temporary distraction from the afternoon, because her boss is still furious with her, the gallery doesn't bring the same thrills it used to, and she keeps thinking about getting up and leaving just like that.

Not to mention she's still got lots of things left on her ' **things to do later** ' list that she keeps pushing to the next day, or to the back of her mind; like call her Mom later, buy and send flowers to the newly engaged couple and stop by Arcadia to check in on her friends that she keeps avoiding. Clarke sighs, switches off the screen of the phone before she types any of it up because it's really not Lexa's business, and then she starts replying to emails and setting up deliveries on the computer because that's what she should have been doing instead of texting a stranger.

Fifteen minutes or more pass before her phone lights up with a new message from Lexa.

 

 

_[2:06 PM]:_

_How would I do that?_

 

 

[2:09 PM]:

I don't know? I thought I helped the other night.

 

[2:10 PM]:

Telling you that story about that angry lady at the store.

 

[2:11 PM]:

Something like that?

 

 

_[2:15 PM]:_

_I'm sorry to disappoint, Clarke, but I have no stories about encounters with angry ladies at stores.  
_

 

_[2:16 PM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[2:19 PM]:_

_I don't know what kind of things to say to distract you._

 

 

First Clarke just stares at the message for a while, uncertain of what to say. Then she's careful to slide her phone away again and finish up what she's doing on the computer, when her boss passes by the desk on her way around the gallery. Clarke tries to distract herself during all of this, tries to think of sunsets, or what she'll do tonight and what she might paint but it all feels hopeless. It all feels kinda grey, like the sky outside that she's been staring at for most of the day. It's not a bad day, she doesn't mind the faded grey skies or the chilly air. Sometimes she just misses the warmth and the colors.

Now that she's finished with the email and the deliveries for the next few days, Clarke stretches for her phone and begins to type up a response. She realizes there's still an unread message from her Mom on her phone, along with a few other ones she's read but hasn't answered, and she decides she'll get to them later. Clarke always tells herself that and sometimes she does get to it later, but sometimes she forgets and doesn't reply for a while. It can't be helped, it's just the way she's been lately. It's like a cycle of avoiding them that she can't get out of right now, one she doesn't even know if she'd want to get out of, if she could.

 

 

[2:24 PM]:

I don't know, normal things? That distract other people?

 

[2:25 PM]:

It's not really a distraction if I have to tell you what to say.

 

 

_[2:36 PM]:_

_What are normal things to say, to distract someone?  
_

 

 

[2:38 PM]:

Um..Again, I don't know. I think it's meant to be spontaneous.

 

[2:39 PM]:

Like facts and or stories. Things like that.

 

 

_[2:41 PM]:_

_What kind of facts?_

 

 

Clarke's free to leave for a small break now, she took half this morning and can take the rest now. She doesn't leave to buy something to eat or a warm drink from one of the stores on the block, not today, she doesn't feel like it today. Instead of doing that, Clarke stops by the bathroom on her way outside, and then she goes outside into the tiny gap of concrete where some of her colleagues come to smoke. She just comes here to get some air and sunlight. There isn't much light outside today though, she notices. It's not always nice out here, but it's a tiny escape from inside and that feels nice.

 

 

[2:52 PM]:

You're really bad at this. You know?

 

[2:55 PM]:

Ok. Facts like..Did you know, sea otters hold each other's paws when they sleep so they won't drift apart?

 

 

_[3:05 PM]:_

_Yes, I knew that._

 

_[3:09 PM]:_

_I'm sorry I don't see how that is a distraction._

 

 

[3:17 PM]:

You're terrible at this, just forget it.

 

[3:17 PM]:

Thanks anyway, Lexa.

 

 

_[3:18 PM]:_

_I'm sorry that I'm not very good at this._

 

_[3:19 PM]:_

_I'm not usually asked to distract people in this way._

 

_[3:19 PM]:_

_I'm also at work too, Clarke. If I sounded busy it's because I was.  
_

 

 

Clarke ends up sitting on the bottom of the stairs. It's a tiny little alleyway, sectioned off by wire fencing at both ends. It's situated next to another building so there's really not much room at all, and sometimes it doesn't even feel like there's enough room to breathe out here with how closed in it is. But it's better than nothing, she guesses. She reaches for her phone a minute later, picks it up and types a quick response.

 

 

[3:23 PM]:

That's ok. What do you do?

 

 

_[3:25 PM]:_

_I run a private security firm/team.  
_

 

 

[3:26 PM]:

Wow. I'm sure that's tense..

 

[3:26 PM]:

Do you work on the tech side of things? Or out on the ground?

 

 

_[3:31 PM]:_

_My team on the ground are out there everyday. They're grounders.  
_

 

_[3:32 PM]:_

_Protecting clients. Doing recon. Working events. Sometimes I'm out there with them._

 

_[3:33 PM]:_

_I don't do tech stuff. I tell them what to do, and I make sure my rules are followed. I run it all.  
_

 

 

[3:36 PM]:

Yeah, that definitely sounds tense.

 

 

_[3:37 PM]:_

_What do you do, Clarke?_

 

 

Clarke's about halfway through her reply to Lexa when she realizes how long she's been out here on her break. She switches off the screen of her phone, returns inside and sits back down behind the front desk. The gallery is noticeably less busy when Clarke returns, it gives her the opportunity to check her phone and reply to Lexa.

 

 

[3:45 PM]:

I work in a gallery. Nothing like what you do.

 

 

_[3:49 PM]:_

_What I do isn't for everyone._

 

_[3:51 PM]:_

_Are you an artist, Clarke?_

 

 

[4:01 PM]:

Not really, no. It's not my gallery.

 

 

_[4:03 PM]:_

_I didn't ask if it was your gallery, I asked if you were an artist._

 

 

[4:05 PM]:

I guess.

 

[4:06 PM]:

Work's busy, I have to go..

 

[4:06 PM]:

Thanks for the distraction, Lexa.

 

 

 ***

 

 

FRIDAY - 25 MARCH  


 

 

It's late again when Clarke gets home. She repeats the same pattern of the past few days - the last few weeks, actually. Put away items from the store in the fridge, if there are anywhere. Check her answering machine for messages, remind herself to text her mom back. Write a few things down on that list she needs to finish. Shower, dress in comfortable clothes, and find water or wine to drink, and then sit somewhere comfortable to replay the events of the day in her mind. The last one she tries to avoid. But she always likes a small glass of wine to get her over the long day.

Tonight it's wine, not water. Clarke settles on the couch with a small glass of wine, and a book that she knows she's probably not going to end up reading tonight. She feels tired from the day, the repetitiveness always catches up with her around this time of the week. Actually, it's always there. It just seems to worsen at the end of the week, which makes no sense since Friday night is the start of her weekend, she has the entire weekend off this week and her plans off including drawing, stopping by Arcadia, and maybe catching up with an old friend. The last two probably won't happen, but right now she's determined to convince herself that they will.

Comfortable on the couch, Clarke tugs a blanket up over herself loosely. She stretches for her book that she left on the table and begins to draw. Not a sunset or a landscape. It isn't clear at first, it's not always clear. She starts to draw a pair of eyes, but she feels like she's never seen them before. She can't sketch the inside, only the dark shadow of the outside.

The TV plays in the background to provide her with some background noise. Monty and Jasper are suspiciously quiet across the hall, she decides that they're either out working on shifts they've picked up at Arcadia, or they're getting drunk and probably high somewhere. She's pretty sure she knows out of those two which one it is, and part of her considers going down there to Arcadia, but she just doesn't feel like it tonight. She hasn't felt like it at all lately, and it always feels like it's too late now. It's too late for her to go out, or to organize something. It's too late for her to get into contact with her friends or reply to their messages. It just feels too late.

Tired of thinking about it, Clarke turns up the volume on the TV and settles into the couch with her wine. She drinks it all eventually, then pours another. When she's in the kitchen filling her glass for the third time, her phone chimes from the couch. She expects it to be her Mom, so when she arrives to look at the message she's surprised to see it's from Lexa. It's past 10 on a Friday night, and Lexa is texting her.

   
  


_[10:31 PM]:_

_Do you know how many atoms are in an adult's body?_

 

 

Clarke blinks slowly. She finishes the glass of wine, pours another then picks up the phone. She's sort of still speechless and figuring out what to say back when Lexa replies and another message rolls in.

 

 

_[10:33 PM]:_

_7 octillion atoms _

 

 

[10:35 PM]:  


.. **..**

 

[10:36 PM]:  


Wow. How many zeroes is that?

 

 

_[10:45 PM]: _

_27. _

 

 

[10:49 PM]:  


You totally just googled that.

 

[10:51 PM]:

Anyway, Lexa. Random message.

 

[10:52 PM]:

Wait. Is this your attempt at the fact thing?

 

 

_[10:56 PM]: _

_Yes. _

 

_[10:58 PM]: _

_Was it not a good fact? _

 

 

[11:04 PM]:  


It was interesting?

 

[11:07 PM]:

And unexpected. I didn't think I'd hear from you again.

 

[11:09 PM]:

It was a good fact, Lexa. Thank you.

 

 

_[11:11 PM]: _

_You're welcome, Clarke. _

 

_[11:12 PM]: _

_I'm pleased you liked it. _

 

 

[11:19 PM]:  


Well it was definitely something that I didn't know before.

 

[11:21 PM]:

So I just thought of something. Mind if I ask you a question?

 

 

_[11:26 PM]: _

_Not at all. _

 

_[11:28 PM]: _

_I can't guarantee that I'll answer though.  
_

 

 

[11:34 PM]:  


That's okay if you don't.

 

[11:36 PM]:

I'm curious: How were you at work two days ago, if you were mugged right before that?

 

[11:38 PM]:

I call in sick when I have a bad migraine. How did you go to work injured?

 

 

_[11:45 PM]: _

_It wasn't that bad, I was fine to work. I didn't go out on the ground. _

 

_[11:48 PM]: _

_Your concern is nice, but surprising. We don't know each other. You don't have to concern yourself with my well-being. _

 

 

[12:02 AM]:  


I know that. It's just my instinct to care about people.

 

[12:03 AM]:

My mom's a doctor. I learned a lot from her. I can't help but care.  


 

 

_[12:07 AM]: _

_And what of yours? _

 

 

[12:10 AM]:  


What about mine?

 

 

_[12:12 AM]: _

_What about your career/job at the Gallery?_

 

_[12:13 AM]: _

_You needed a distraction from work on Wednesday. You asked me to distract you. _

 

_[12:13 AM]: _

_You are clearly not happy with what you are doing. Perhaps you should consider a different path. _

 

 

[12:16 AM]:  


It's complicated.

 

 

_[12:19 AM]: _

_Most things are. _

 

_[12:23 AM]: _

_I suppose we can't always be happy with what we do. We just do it anyway. _

 

 

[12:36 AM]:  


Wise words, Lexa. Thanks for the chat.

 

 

_[12:39 AM]: _

_Is that a habit of yours? _

 

 

[12:46 AM]:  


Is what a habit?  


 

 

_[12:49 AM]: _

_Three times now, you've tried to find ways to end the conversation. It's an observation. _

 

_[12:49 AM]: _

_It's also understandable, since I'm a stranger. If you wish I'll stop contacting you.  
_

 

_[12:49 AM]: _

_Good night, Clarke. _

 

 

   
***

 

 

SATURDAY - 26 MARCH

 

 

The clock reads **8:03 AM** when Clarke gets up. It's definitely the record for the earliest she can remember getting up on a Saturday in the last few months, especially on a week where she worked every day. She's up today because she couldn't sleep in, and after a terrible night's sleep she decides she'll just spend the day busying herself with tasks around her apartment - and then, hopefully, she'll just crash and fall right to sleep tonight. It doesn't always work out like that but today she hopes it will.

Clarke drags a chair to the bench, fills a bowl with some cereal, and pours herself some coffee. There's some fruit that's still good, she puts some aside for later and begins to chew on her cereal. She keeps her phone next to her, still undecided if she's going to reply at all. Her fingers twitch to reply but she's not entirely sure what to say back to Lexa. So she leaves that for later and decides on figuring out what she's going to say to her Mom's last emails that she hasn't answered in a while. They're mostly about how they need to talk, and how she'd love to see Clarke again - and the later ones are a little more firm, more tense, about how they _have_ to talk now and it's been far to long. It feels tense.

She writes several versions of the email before settling on the one and sending that one without any more hesitation. It has to be done, the message has to be sent, it can't be avoided anymore and Clarke knows that - however, it _can_ be ignored for a little while. Once the message is sent Clarke exits her email app and ends up at her desk in her bedroom, trying to finish this damn sunset while eating a few pieces of her favorite chocolate. It's early for chocolate but she doesn't care.

Until her Mom replies, Clarke wants a distraction. She wants to eat chocolate, and she wants to paint and draw, and get her mind as far away from this as possible. Abby will answer quickly, Clarke already knows this. She's been waiting weeks to get a proper message or call from her daughter, and it must have frustrated her but Clarke won't allow herself feel guilt for something that she had to do.

No contact, not just to Abby. She needed a temporary clean break from everything from work, and it had worked for a while. Until it hadn't.

Her phone vibrates on her desk after Clarke's just swallowed another piece of chocolate, she can't help that it's so good. It's really their fault that they make such good chocolate, it has her coming back for more every time. She chews on the piece in her mouth as her eyes cautiously glance over to her phone screen, Abby's message is small but far from simple.

 

 

**From: Abby Griffin**

**To: Clarke Griffin**

**Date: 26/03/2016**

**[Subject: Call me back Clarke]**

 

**Clarke, I'm so glad you answered me. Can we please talk soon?**

**I'm free now. Can I call you?**

**\- mom**

 

 

For a while Clarke thinks on it. She puts away the chocolate because that's enough for now (but really, it's also because she wants to save some for later and she isn't going to the store today, so she'll need to save what she can). She tidies up her room a little more, puts some washing on and fetches a glass of water from the kitchen. When she returns to her phone at her desk, what feels like an hour later, she realizes it's only been about twenty minutes. There aren't any new messages or emails from Abby, she guesses that her Mom must really want to talk to her after all of this time, and that she must be torn between sending another email and not wanting to push it and push Clarke away.

Sighing loudly, Clarke retrieves her laptop and drags it over to her desk. She clears some of her books and art off the desk, before she opens up the laptop and clicks on the email to reply to Abby. It happens again, she probably writes thirteen versions of the email before she's sort of happy with it.

 

 

**From: Clarke Griffin**

**To: Abby Griffin**

**Date: 26/03/2016**

**[Subject: Call me back Clarke]**

 

**Hi mom, I'm here. Do you want to skype chat instead?  
**

 

 

It takes less than a minute for Abby to respond - and she doesn't answer via email or text, or even phone call - she gives her answer by calling Clarke through Skype. It pops up on Clarke's screen and the noisy sound of an incoming video call fills Clarke's apartment. She quickly steps away from the computer and over to the mirror, just to check that she looks reasonably decent for someone that slept so badly and is sort of nervous about this. Clarke returns to the desk, plops down on the cushioned chair and hits the green 'accept call' telephone button. This takes a minute. It's a little unclear at first, the picture is slightly crackly or something, but then it clears and Abby's face comes into view in the large screen.

Abby looks the same but _of course_ she does, it's only been a few months since they've seen each other. It was just that it almost felt longer, and Clarke wasn't sure how different she would look now. Her hair is still long and a little wavy, and she looks tired too. Clarke guesses she just got home from a shift at the hospital, she's sitting in a bathrobe with damp hair too so she either just got home or just woke up. She looks as tired as Clarke feels, and on some level Clarke knows it's probably for the same reasons. They miss each other.

"Clarke." Abby's voice echoes across the screen. She reaches out to touch the screen. "Oh, honey. It's been so long."

Then Abby smiles, and Clarke returns it as best as she can. "Hi, mom. You look well."

She laughs, and it feels nice to hear Abby laughing again. Clarke's smile remains.

"No, I don't. But you do, Clarke. You look really well." Abby tells her. She moves a little off screen then returns with a mug of coffee. "I thought I'd never get a hold of you. I'm so glad you're free now to talk. I'm so glad."

Clarke's smile stays there, sort of, as she looks around the room behind Abby. She's in her bedroom at the apartment, Clarke vaguely remembers it, though she's only been there once or twice so it's no surprise that she forgets most of it. She remembers the elegance of it, the style - a combination of his and hers. And she remembers thinking that Abby deserved it, that she deserved something nice, and lovely, and comfortable.

"Me too." Clarke answers, suddenly realizing how long she's been silent for. "How are you? How's work? And things with Kane?"

Abby's smile returns, though it looks a little tired again. "Things are good." she says, pausing to take a sip of coffee. "Work's busy, and things with Kane are great. What about you? How's work, Clarke?"

On her side of the screen, Clarke fidgets in her chair. She moves so she's a little more comfortable, it doesn't offer that much of an improvement though, and then she reaches for her glass of water and drinks some before deciding - she takes those few seconds to decide what she'll tell Abby about work. She'll either say that it's great and things have never been better, something Abby might not believe, or she'll tell her the truth, about things have been a little dull and shaky there and she's uncertain about her future there. She decides on something in-between, for now.

"It's been great. Some days are slow, dull. And you know how some clients can be." Clarke answers. "But overall, it's good and I'm doing good."

"You look it, Clarke. You look good. Better. Much better than I remembered. It's nice to see." Abby says, and the smile is pretty much gone now. "I've missed you so much, darling. Why couldn't we do this sooner? Why couldn't we talk-"

"You know why, mom. I asked you to respect that and you did. You still are, and that means so much to me."

Abby watches her for a second before speaking across the screen again. "What about now? What happens now, or after this?"

"I haven't really figured it out yet. I just want us to get through this call, then we can figure out what happens next."

Her face softens significantly. She leans closer to the screen. "I miss you, Clarke. So much. I miss you everyday."

Clarke nods, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. Then she clasps her hands together, and tries to smile.

"Me too. I miss you all the time."

"Can we do something soon?" Abby's voice echoes across the screen again. "Please, just consider it after this. After this call. I'd love to see you again."

"Yeah, we can. I'm better now, Mom. I just need to figure things out with work, figure out when I'm free. Then we can do something."

"I'd love that, Clarke." she smiles. "It hasn't been the same. My life, without you in it as often. I miss it. I miss you."

"It can't go back to exactly how it was, Mom. But it could be good again. Just give me a little more time? Please."

"Yes, of course, Clarke. I'll give you as long as you need." Abby says, watching her through the screen. "As long as you need."

"I, um - I have to go soon. There's something I need to do today, shopping and stuff. But we can email, and maybe we can talk through here again. Or meet up." Clarke says, combing her hands through her hair gently. She drops them away then looks at Abby through the screen. "I'll be in touch this time. I never meant to make you wait this long. I never meant to make anyone wait this long, but it was what I needed. I can't be sorry for that. But I'm sorry if I upset or stressed you."

"Don't be. Don't be sorry at all, darling. Take your time. I'll be here." Abby's voice returns. "We'll all be here."

The calls ends a few minutes later. After Abby blows a kiss to Clarke across the screen - and Clarke returns her affection with a genuine smile, the best she can offer - the call ends and it cuts to black. Clarke cancels everything on her computer, closes the lid and retreats to the soft blankets of her bed. She collapses against them as she tries to deal with the feelings that linger after that call.

Since he died, and everything that happened after that followed, Clarke's kept her distance from everyone including Abby. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but weeks turned to months and she soon felt like she could never go back to how it was. Maybe she can't, but she realizes now something that she's always known; she can't keep everyone out, she can't keep her mom out, not forever. It hurts Abby, and it's hurting Clarke more than she realized.

So just for today and maybe tomorrow, she'll keep them out a little loner. She just needs some more time. Then she'll slowly start working on things, because this sort of feels like the start she needed to head down that path again. Seeing her mom like that, happy but missing Clarke so badly at the same time, reminds her of what this is doing to other people. Clarke's not sure she can mend things, she's not even sure she can mend herself, but she knows eventually she'll have to do something to fix all of this. It can't be left broken forever, she has to at least _try_ to do something to fix it because it won't mend itself.

Right now it all feels like a mess that Clarke can't really deal with or process until later in the day, or until tomorrow when she's hopefully well rested again. Clarke settles into the blankets more, the room is sort of bright but there's a dullness to it that is soothing, and she feels like it might allow her to catch some sleep for a few hours now that her conversation with her Mom is over with. Her phone vibrates on the bed near her and she weakly stretches for it, expecting to see a message from Abby. It isn't from Abby.

 

 

_[8:37 AM]:_

_Did you know that we're all made of stardust, Clarke?  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh. sea otters are so cute, right?


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke | _Lexa_

and this means someone is typing; .. **..**

 

***

SATURDAY - 26 MARCH

 

 

[10:03 AM]:

That sounds like something from a poem

 

[10:04 AM]:

Is it a poem?

 

[10:05 AM]:

Oh wait, I know what this is..Are you trying that fact thing again?

 

[10:05 AM]:

(Sorry, I would've replied sooner but I fell asleep)

 

 

_[10:08 AM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[10:09 AM]:_

_It's okay. You don't have to say sorry for sleeping, Clarke._

 

_[10:09 AM]:_

_And yes, I'm doing that "thing"_

 

 

[10:21 AM]:

Sorry that's not what I meant. I just woke up, I'm not exactly coherent ATM.

 

[10:21 AM]:

I meant I'm sorry, I saw your message earlier and almost replied but I fell back asleep.

 

[10:22 AM]:

Today was my failed attempt at waking up early and being productive.

 

[10:24 AM]:

On the upside, I feel better after sleeping. So I guess it's sort of productive?

 

[10:29 AM]:

Who am I kidding? Not me, or you. That's for sure. It's just another unproductive day for me.

 

 

_[10:41 AM]:_

_Are you working today, Clarke?_

 

 

[10:51 AM]:

No I'm not. Why?

 

 

_[10:55 AM]:_

_So it's your day off?_

 

 

[10:58 AM]:

Yes..

 

[11:02 AM]:

Why?

 

 

_[11:05 AM]:_

_You're allowed to be 'unproductive' on your day off._

 

_[11:06 AM]:_

_There's nothing wrong with resting when you need it._

 

 

[11:10 AM]:

Thanks, Lexa. That's a good point.

 

[11:24 AM]:

So are you going to finish with your fact about stardust? Or not?

 

 

_[11:26 AM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[11:29 AM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[11:35 AM]:  
_

_I was trying to, Clarke._

 

 

[11:39 AM]:

Ok, my bad. Please tell me.

 

[11:41 AM]:

I actually want to know about this. It sounds fascinating.

 

 

_[11:49 AM]:_

_It is._

 

 

[12:01 PM]:

I wasn't being sarcastic. I was being serious, Lexa.

 

[12:09 PM]:

Please share your fact with me.

 

[12:10 PM]:

It's interesting.

 

[12:11 PM]:

How are we made of stardust?

 

 

_[12:26 PM]:_

_Almost all elements on Earth were formed at the heart of a star._

 

_[12:36 PM]:_

_When those stars exploded those atoms blasted across space, Clarke. Parts of what we are, what we're made of, came from dying stars.._

 

_[12:37 PM]:_

_Explosions...Supernovas_

 

_[12:41 PM]:_

_Some stardust is old, some new. We carry it all with us, Clarke. It connects us to the universe..To the Earth._

 

_[12:49 PM]:_   
  
_Everything on earth and everything we are came from stardust._

  
 

[1:04 PM]:

Wow.

 

[1:06 PM]:

That's an amazing fact, Lexa.

 

[1:09 PM]:

Thanks for brightening my day a little.

 

[1:09 PM]:

With your facts & knowledge of stardust, I meant.

 

[1:10 PM]:

It's a great fact.

 

 

_[1:29 PM]:_

_Your turn now, Clarke._

 

 

[1:31 PM]:

My turn?

 

[1:31 PM]:

For what, Lexa?

 

[1:32 PM]:

??????????

 

 

_[1:41 PM]:_

_You can just send the one question mark._

 

_[1:41 PM]:_

_Ten question marks seem a little unnecessary._

 

_[1:42 PM]:_

_And I thought it was clear, but I'll explain: Your turn to send a fact, now._

 

_[1:45 PM]:_

_I assumed that was why you were still in contact with me?_

 

 

[2:01 PM]:

.. **..**

 

[2:05 PM]:

Did you seriously just count the question marks that I sent you?

 

[2:06 PM]:

Seriously, Lexa???

 

 

_[2:10 PM]:_

_No._

 

_[2:14 PM]:_

_It was an educated guess._

 

 

[2:19 PM]:

Based on what, exactly?

 

 

_[2:21 PM]:_

_Do you have a fact or not, Clarke?_

 

  
[2:28 PM]:

Yeah, I do actually. I have a few.

 

[2:31 PM]:

Fact one: I'm still in contact with you because you're fun to talk to. For some reason that I don't really know.

 

[2:32 PM]:

Don't ask me to explain that ^ fact anymore. I won't. I just like talking to you because it's new. That's all I'm going to say on that.

 

[2:35 PM]:

Fact two: There's no unnecessary amount of question marks to send. I can and will send as many as I want. ??????

 

[2:36 PM]:

Fact three: I like talking to you. That also sort of ties into fact one. It does, but this includes something else. You can stop talking to me if you're just here to talk facts.

 

[2:39 PM]:

Fact four: Did you know that eating chocolate used to be considered a sin?

 

[2:41 PM]:

And the last one, fact five: You were right when you told me I find ways to end conversation. I do that and I can't help it. But it's been different with you.

 

[2:45 PM]:

We don't have to keep talking but we are. I could remove you from my contacts, block your number or stop replying but I don't.

 

[2:51 PM]:

In the last few months, you're the first person I've really felt like continuing a conversation with. You're interesting. And fun, to talk to. In your way..

 

[2:55 PM]:

So those are my facts, Lexa. Take them however you want.

 

 

_[3:01 PM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

 

[3:32 PM]:

Look I'm sorry, Lexa. That was a lot to take in at once.

 

[3:36 PM]:

If you couldn't already tell, I'm a little stressed right now.

 

[3:38 PM]:

Things aren't easy.

 

[3:40 PM]:

But what I said, in parts, was true.

 

[3:40 PM]:

Actually most of it was.

 

 

_[3:41 PM];_

_The part where you said you liked talking to me._

 

_[3:41 PM]:_

_What was that? The truth, the stress - or something else?  
_

 

 

[3:44 PM]:

The truth.

 

[3:47 PM]:

Something happened in my life a while ago. Something complicated..

 

[3:41 PM]:

And as a result of it, I pushed almost everyone out. They're still not back in today.

 

[3:45 PM]:

I haven't seen my mom in months. I haven't talked to her for so long..Until today.

 

[3:50 PM]:

The last time I talked to my friends was a while ago. I avoid their calls. Sometimes I reply to their messages.

 

[3:51 PM]:

But for a long time I didn't feel like talking to anyone about anything.

 

[3:52 PM]:

The only real constant in my life was work. Which isn't great right now.

 

[3:53 PM]:

And then we started talking and sharing facts, and I felt like..

 

[3:55 PM]:

I don't know how I felt.

 

[3:59 PM]:

But I like talking to you, Lexa. And I'm sorry about all of that. It's a lot to take in so I understand if you need some time.

 

 

_[4:12 PM]:_

_It's not. And I do understand, in my way._

 

_[4:16 PM]:_

_I like talking to you too, Clarke._

 

 

***

 

 

SUNDAY - MARCH 27

  
 

Arcadia is _too_ busy when Clarke steps inside. Her first instinct is to turn and go outside, to wait in the queue outside, pick up her order there and then walk home and spend the rest of her day off in her apartment. But there's a slight chill to the air when she steps inside, and there's a part of Clarke that just wants to sit here and enjoy this for a while. She can't enjoy it like she used to, things will never be how they used to be and she's slowly accepted that now. She just wants to sit in Arcadia and pretend for a little while that things could be good again.

She orders a warm drink, a biscuit, and tells Monty she'll be back to order something later. He and Jasper pick up shifts here occasionally, to pay for their apartment, and their drinks (and those treats they buy for their stash, they tell her). Monty's good in the kitchen and at the register, but he's just so friendly they always put him at the register. He greets Clarke with a smile, they talk for a minute, and then she retreats to a back corner of the Arcadia. It's a booth right near the window.

Clarke settles in comfortably, pulls her bag up on to the seat next to her and she fixes her attention on everything outside of the window. It seems different somehow, compared to when she watches the figures moving on with their days through the windows of the Gallery. That feels depressing, and she feels a longing, but _here_ she feels different and she can't really explain it. She doesn't need to.

There's an email on her laptop from Abby she needs to answer, and several others she knows she should reply to but she just can't right now. She promises herself she'll do it soon, she'll do it while she's here, but then she pulls out her sketchbook and sets it up on the table while she waits for her order, and Clarke knows she won't be replying to any emails anytime soon. There's been an image in her head since her conversation with Lexa, she hasn't heard from Lexa since then, and she hasn't replied yet either because she's been unsure of what else to say right now. But the image in her head remains.

It's a face she can't really see clearly yet, mixed in with stars. She sees a shadowed background and dark eyes, and just as she's about to sketch it Jasper brings her order over. He's just as friendly and polite as Monty, but unlike Monty, there's an obviousness to Jasper's gaze and his attentiveness. Monty's better at concealing and keeping things to himself, keeping his expressions and thoughts to himself - while Jasper sort of gives it away in that way of his, Clarke's always noticed it, and she's never cared. She doesn't care now, he doesn't mean any harm by it. He just cares so much it shines through everything he does. She greets him, they hug, and then he realizes he has to go back to work and he promises he'll come by later. Or maybe they'll stop by the apartment later, he tells her as he's leaving.

Clarke's not sure if that will happen, or if she wants it to because she feels like her apartment is still sort of a mess right now. But it's nice to entertain the thought. She decides that Arcadia is too loud to concentrate on what she wants to draw, so she ends up turning her computer on, plugging headphones into the computer and turning on some music. It's low enough that she'll hear anyone that tries to talk to her, though she's pretty sure that no one will today, and it's loud enough that it blocks out the chatter and bursting noise of Arcadia for now. It's not that she minds the noise, it's just right now she can't concentrate on what she wants to draw with all of this noise going on in the background.

And apparently that's not the only distraction that she has to worry about. In the corner of her computer, a square chat bubble pops up and she immediately recognizes who it's from.

 

**[27/03]: I can't be seeing things right. Is Clarke Griffin back at Arcadia?**

**  
[27/03]: Drinking and sketching like old times**

**  
[27/03]: I'm wrong..aren't I, princess?**

  
 

She drops the pencil against the notepad slightly and looks around, but she sees no sign of Bellamy inside Arcadia, not anywhere near her anyway. Clarke returns to the computer - pauses to drink some coffee, and to just finish that one line on the sketch to make it right - and then she drags the computer across the table a little closer and begins to type up a reply. It takes her a while but she eventually figures out one that feels okay to send.

 

 

[27/03]: your eyes must be failing you, old man

  
[27/03]: that, or you got into monty and jasper's stash again.

 

 

Bellamy answers instantly and it draws a small smile across her lips, she can't help but remember how good it felt to be here, around him and around her friends. On the screen it shows that Bellamy is typing back, and she knows the comment about their stash is either going to irritate him or amuse him. It seems to do both, she sort of smiles again, and then waits as the next messages appear, one after the other.

 

 

 **[27/03]:** **Hey, that was a mistake and you know it.**

  
**[27/03]: So she makes jokes again? This can't be real.**

**  
[27/03]: It's been too long, Clarke. You look well.**

 

 

[27/03]: yeah, I'd say the same back but I can't see you.

  
[27/03]: where are you bellamy? are you here at Arcadia too?

 

 

**[27/03]: I'm out the back with O. I saw you come in.**

**  
[27/03]:  I haven't told her yet. I thought you might still need time.**

 

 

[27/03]: who does she think you're talking to then?

 

 

**[27/03]: O hasn't noticed, she's busy talking to Lincoln**

**  
[27/03]: You missed a lot, they're pretty serious now.**

**  
[27/03]: There's a few things you missed actually, Clarke**

**  
[27/03]: And we've all missed you too. You have to know that now. Are you back?**

 

 

Clarke takes a little time to reply now, it's difficult at first because there's so much she wants to say and so much that she can't. She finishes her coffee, picks up her pencil and tries to sketch for a little while but it doesn't really work. The sketch - whatever she's trying to put down on to paper - has sort of faded from her memory now and she can't exactly remember what she wanted where, and it just doesn't feel like it's coming naturally to her like it had been a few moments earlier.

Frustrated, she places the pencil down and chews on the biscuit she'd ordered. It tastes good. Clarke orders another drink, asks for some water with it, and then she tries to return to drawing but it still doesn't work. Then she remembers that Bellamy's here and he's waiting for an answer - she looks at the screen, rereads his question 'are you back?', and realizes that she really doesn't know how to answer that.

 

 

[27/03]: i don't know yet bellamy. i just came here for some coffee

  
[27/03]: and some space from everything. you know?

  
[27/03]: i know how long it's been. and i've missed you all too. please don't think i haven't.

  
[27/03]: i just need more time. i need to ease back into things. i don't know if you'll understand that.

 

 

**[27/03]: Of course I do. Take as much time as you need, Clarke. We all get it.**

**  
[27/03]: Just don't forget that there are people here that care about you. People that love you.**

**  
[27/03]: You're not alone. Don't think you are again, please.**

   
 **[27/03]: When you're up to it send a message. Tell me about your day. Tell me how things are. The good and the bad.  
**  

**[27/03]: Or just let me know how you are. That's it. I just missed you and I worried. I don't want to sound selfish but I did.**

 

 

It's a lot to take in. She doesn't have too much time to think on it before Jasper returns with her drinks, and leaves a cookie 'on the house' for her. It's sweet, she knows it's probably coming out of his pay, but he doesn't seem to mind too much. He smiles and returns to work when a customer calls out his name - he's halfway through tell Clarke about this girl he met called Maya when the woman calls out for some assistance, and when he's gone she's left smiling, and with the memories of how things used to be. She lets herself enjoy reliving it, she enjoys this friendship and the many other friendships she formed here.

Clarke begins typing up another reply, this one flows out a little easier than the rest. It's one of the only replies when she doesn't retype it seven times before sending it, this one sort of just comes together in the way it's supposed to and then it's gone for Bellamy to read. She doesn't regret any of it, she just wishes she could explain things more, or not have to explain them. It's all still a little messy right now.

 

 

[27/03]: I know you did, bellamy. i missed you all so much. just thinking about you back there, being so close..

  
[27/03]: when I'm ready you'll be the first to know. and i'll work on those messages to you. it's just one thing at a time. you know?

  
[27/03]: I'm sorry for anything that i've put any of you through. it was never my intention, ever. after what happened, i just couldn't..

   
[27/03]: i know you're all there. thank you. x

 

 

**[27/03]: Always there, Clarke.**

**  
[27/03]: When you're ready let me know. We'll be there x**

 

 

Arcadia is still busy when Clarke signs out of the IM system. She leaves her computer on though, needing the music there as a last resort to distract her and fill her head with something other than thoughts. Music helps, it often does. She finishes one of her drinks, eats the rest of the cookie that Jasper kindly brought over, and then she tries one last time to continue sketching the image she had seen in her head earlier. It had been inspired by Lexa's talk of stardust, and of human's coming from stardust. Clarke's still inspired by it, she doesn't want to just sketch it down. She wants to stop somewhere to buy paint and canvas and she wants to bring it to life with color, but she's missing the enthusiasm to do that tonight.

Maybe tomorrow, she tells herself, as she packs up her things and begins to leave the Arcadia. It was nice to be back here, she'll come back soon she silently tells herself. It wasn't as bad or as hard as she'd thought it would be, but then again maybe she's just used to being back here because of the mornings she waited in the queue outside for coffee or food. This is just one of the first times she's been back inside for a while.

Clarke waves goodbye to Monty and Jasper over the counters and crowds of customers lined up, and just as Clarke turns to leave she swears she feels a familiar pair of eyes on her. She looks over her shoulder and for a second she sees Bellamy, through the door leading into the bookstore, standing there. Watching there. A few people pass between them and he's gone and she's glad that he let it be for now. When she's ready he'll be the first to know - and she finds herself wondering, as she leaves Arcadia and starts off on her journey home for the night, if that's going to be anytime soon.

 

 

***

 

 

THURSDAY - MARCH 31  


 

 

_[11:01 AM]:_

_Raccoons can run up to 15 miles per hour._

 

_[11:01 AM]:_

_They can also fall around 35 to 40 ft without injury._

 

_[11:03 AM]:_

_Imagine that, Clarke._

 

 

Clarke blinks at the screen for a minute - and for those sixty seconds she's totally unaware of the way her lips have curved up into a smile at the sight of Lexa's message. It's the first one she's received from her in a while and for some unexplainable reason this totally unnecessary and random fact is just what she needed to brighten her day a little, and help her get through the next few hours at work. Stuck at the front desk again on phone and walk in duty, as well dealing with all of the online stuff that Clarke's never enjoyed, Clarke slides her phone off to the side and types up an immediate reply. Her boss won't be in until later this afternoon, so Clarke still has some time to talk to Lexa.

She has to fight the urge to not laugh at Lexa's last message. _Imagine that_. Clarke stifles a small laugh and tries to remain composed so none of her co-workers will see her laughing and approach her wanting to know why.

 

[11:10 AM]:

Imagine what?

 

[11:10 AM]:

You as a raccoon?

 

[11:11 AM]:

Or raccoons running/falling?

 

[11:14 AM]:

You weren't exactly specific

 

 

_[11:19 AM]:_

_Why would you imagine me as a Raccoon?_

 

_[11:21 AM]:_

_That makes no sense._

 

 

[11:24 AM]:

And, what -- imaging raccoons running or falling from 35+ feet heights makes sense?

 

[11:27 AM]:

Lexa, you're going to get me busted at work for laughing so hard. Seriously

 

[11:28 AM]:

I'm crying from laughing so hard, this looks so unprofessional right now but I can't stop

 

 

_[11:29 AM]:_

_I meant imagine having the ability to fall that much without damaging yourself._

 

 

[11:36 AM]:

Why would I want to imagine that?

 

[11:36 AM]:

Average heights aren't my friend. I don't really want to imagine that.

 

[11:37 AM]:

Wait. This makes sense. Are you like..an adrenaline junkie?

 

She carries the phone with her as she leaves for the bathroom - needing some silence, and a place to quietly laugh if Lexa makes any more comments similar to her first ones. She can take a few minutes away from the front desk if she needs to, it's her first break for the morning and right now the gallery's slow so it's the perfect time to sneak away for a moment. The bathroom stalls are quiet and empty when she enters. Clarke carries her phone into a stall, locks the door then sits down, waiting for Lexa's message to come through.

 

 

_[11:39 AM]:_

_What?_

 

_[11:39 AM]:_

_No._

 

_[11:40 AM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[11:41 AM]:  
_

_I like thrills and adrenaline like all people do.  
_

 

_[11:41 AM]:_

_I was simply making the observation that having the ability to fall from tall heights without injury would be..interesting._

 

 

[11:49 AM]:

Ok, this got kinda weird.

 

[11:49 AM]:

BTW, you so are an adrenaline junkie. ;-)

 

 

_[11:52 AM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[11:53 AM]:  
_

_Clarke, why were you laughing?_

 

_[11:54 AM]:_

_Did you picture me as a raccoon?_

 

 

[11:56 AM]:

Nope, I totally did not do that.

 

[11:59 AM]:

I also didn't need a bathroom break to wipe the tears from my eyes.

 

[11:59 AM]:

Picturing you as a raccoon. Skydiving. It was funny, you should have been there.

 

 

_[12:35 PM]:_

_Your spirits seem improved today. Are you not at work today?_

 

 

[12:39 PM]:

No, I'm there. (That's why I really appreciated that lil fact about Raccoons)

 

[12:41 PM]:

Speaking of those little guys - fact: there's a theory the black mask thingy around their eyes deflects the glare.

 

[12:42 PM]:

And helps with night vision. (I just googled that BTW)

 

 

_[12:49 PM]:_

_How..Fascinating._

 

 

[12:51 PM]:

Now imagine it.

 

[12:53 PM]:

Just imagine it, Lexa

 

 

_[1:10 PM]:_

_You are too funny, Clarke._

 

 

[1:16 PM]:

You know it's weird, until you I never really noticed how easily sarcasm came through VIA text.

 

[1:16 PM]:

Thanks for that, Lexa. My life is infinitely better because of your contribution to it.

 

[1:17 PM]:

How can I ever repay you?

 

[1:26 PM]:

Boss is here. Be right back. X

 

[3:59 PM]:

Ok so I wasn't right back but my boss is intense. I couldn't get to my phone until now.

 

[4:01 PM]:

Day off today for you, or work?

 

 

_[4:35 PM]:_

_Work._

 

_[4:39 PM]:_

_Are you still at work, Clarke?_

 

 

[4:41 PM]:

I'm just about to finish up then I'm going home.

 

[4:46 PM]:

Eventually. I just have to stop by the store first.

 

[4:51 PM]:

What about you?

 

 

_[5:01 PM]:_

_I went to the store this morning. When I'm finished work I'll go home._

 

 

[5:15 PM]:

Sounds good, Lexa.

 

[5:16 PM]:

And please, not another joke about ladies with carts at the store. The one time was good enough for me.

 

 

_[5:28 PM]:_

_Did something happen at work?_

 

_[5:29 PM]:_

_You mentioned that your boss was intense..How so?_

 

 

[5:36 PM]:

It's complicated.

 

 

_[5:41 PM]:_

_Clarke, I work in a security team. Before that I was in the army._

 

_[5:42 PM]:_

_I can handle complicated._

 

 

[5:53 PM]:

Wow. That last thing is something I didn't know about you.

 

[5:57 PM]:

Remind me to bring it up later?

 

 

_[6:01 PM]:_

_No._

 

_[6:01 PM]:_

_Stop avoiding it. You do that too._

 

_[6:02 PM]:_

_What happened at work, Clarke?_

 

 

[6:10 PM]:

I can't remember if I told you about that client..Sandra. Or something.

 

[6:11 PM]:

She complained to my boss about me. Said I wasn't helpful, or wasn't good at my job.

 

[6:12 PM]:

Which is a total lie. I might have days where I hate my job but I love art. I could never hate it.

 

[6:12 PM]:

I was helpful. As helpful as I could be with someone like her. And so what? I forgot her name once or twice.

 

[6:16 PM]:

Anyway, she complained to my boss about it right after. Then she decided to leave and go to another gallery.

 

[6:16 PM]:

For her consultations. Finding pieces. Buying & selling. Etc. All that boring stuff. So yeah, one of our biggest potential clients left and my boss is mad.

 

 

_[6:20 PM]:_

_That sounds unreasonable, Clarke._

 

_[6:20 PM]:_

_That woman was clearly biased towards you from the start._

 

_[6:21 PM]:_

_People forget names sometimes. It doesn't always indicate a lack of respect, sometimes it means that person is carrying too much._

 

_[6:26 PM]:_

_Do you remember the woman's name?_

 

 

[6:37 PM]:

.. **..**

 

[6:39 PM]:

No.

 

[6:42 PM]:

It's fine, Lexa. My boss didn't fire me, she just lectured me.

 

[6:42 PM]:

It really is fine, I have tomorrow off so I'm happy about that.

 

[6:42 PM]:

So let's talk about you?

 

 

_[6:54 PM]:_

_No._

 

_[6:54 PM]:_

_I can't._

 

_[6:57 PM]:_

_I have a work thing tonight, I'm going to be there late._

 

_[7:01 PM]:_

_Have a nice evening, Clarke._

 

 

[7:10 PM]:

.. **..**

 

[7:15 PM]:

Thanks, Lexa. You too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my life has been slightly hectic lately, but I'll be back to updating regularly now. I'm so sorry for the wait and I hope you like this chapter. thanks for reading this fic ❤❤

Clarke | _Lexa_

and this means someone is typing; .. **..**

 

***

SUNDAY - APRIL 3

 

 

  
It takes about five minutes for what Clarke's holding in her hands to really set in. She stares at the card in her hand, then places it down on the table and refrains from checking her phone to read the multiple messages that Abby has probably already sent her. _Oh god_ , she can imagine all of the messages and emails on her phone right now. She knows that all of them would include, to varying degrees, Abby worrying unnecessarily and worrying about this and Clarke's reaction to it all. It was always going to arrive at Clarke's apartment, it's just that she really wasn't expecting to look through her pile of unopened letters and find it today.

 

 

**Please join us for the union of**

**ABIGAIL GRIFFIN AND MARCUS KANE**

**SATURDAY, 7th MAY.  
**

 

 

There's nothing special or different about today, and there's no reason why this should surprise her as much as it does. But she can't pretend like it doesn't. Clarke's only just been talking to her mom again, after such a long time of silence on both ends, and it does surprise her. The wedding is happening, she's always known that, and Abby and Kane have been together, happily, for years so that isn't what's surprising her. It's mostly just that feeling she gets sometimes, when she knows things are about to change in her life and they're out of her control. It isn't a bad change, the wedding will make the two of them happy, and she's happy for them too. It's just that she sometimes can't shake the feeling that what's changing is out of her control. Clarke knows she just has to get comfortable with it, and she will. She'll work on it, for them and for herself.

Despite her current feelings on it, Clarke doesn't want to leave Abby waiting for a response on this. She knows Abby will be sitting there, waiting for Clarke to contact her, or to not message her, so she picks up her phone and sends a message suggesting that they talk through Skype again. Clarke moves to the computer, sits down and waits for Abby's image to appear on the screen when she calls. Five minutes later the call comes through. Clarke accepts the call and then the picture opens up on to the screen, but it isn't Abby sitting there. It's Kane.

"Kane? What are you doing? I thought Mom wanted to talk." Clarke asks, and leans in, frowning at the image of Kane sitting there. "What are you doing? Where's Abby?"

Through the screen, Kane readjusts the camera so it's actually on him and not missing half of his face. Then he moves to sit down in the chair, and the camera cuts off part of his face again. He has to readjust it _again_ , and once it's fixed he smiles and offers Clarke a wave through the screen.

"Okay, sure. Whatever you think it's about, you're wrong. It's not." she assures him quickly, then sighs. "Look, can I please just talk to Mom? I know she's stressing about this."

"It's okay, I can handle this, Clarke. The invitations went out a few days ago. We're assuming you got yours?"

"Yeah? So, what?"

Clarke isn't sure what exactly she's feeling right now about this, but it has nothing to do with her dad, or with Kane. She just feels a little weird about it all, but it has nothing to do with either of them, it's probably just that life around her is moving again and she just feels like hers has stilled. Again. Quietly, Clarke sighs and looks back at the screen, to find Kane sitting there like he's waiting for her to speak. She frowns, and watches as he speaks through the screen again."

" _And_?"

"And, what?" Clarke replies, still frowning a little. "I know what you're both thinking."

"You do? You're telepathic now too, Clarke-"

"This isn't the time for you to try to be funny, Kane." she says quickly. "I know what she's thinking. She's worried about me, about how I feel on this. And I know you're feeling the same way. She's probably listening to this, isn't she? Or you'll tell her all of it later? I'd rather just talk to her about it now."

"This involves both of us, and I told Abby I could handle it. I want to handle it." he says, then hesitates. "I worry about you too, Clarke."

"Why? You mean about this, about your wedding?"

Kane nods, and folds his arms over his chest. Then he waits for a minute. "You don't have to be okay if you're not. You know that. Don't you?"

"Yes, I do. And I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Clarke answers across the screen. "You both deserve to be happy. That's all I want for both of you."

"You're sure about that? Your mom was worried this might upset you. Or, you know." Kane stops, then smiles again. It's a little sadder, filled with a little more concern. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Abby wanted to give you the invitation in person, but I forgot and sent it out. So this is my fault."

"It didn't upset me. All that I feel is happiness for you two. Please believe that, Kane. I need Mom to believe it, too."

"I do. And I'm sure she will too once I talk to her about this."

"So, a May wedding? That will be nice."

"Yeah it'll beautiful." Kane says, then pauses briefly. "You know, this is a question more suited for Abby to ask but here it goes: Will you be one of Abby's bridesmaids? She's asked Raven to be one, and she wants you to be one, too. Do you think you're up for that?"

Clarke hesitates. She doesn't have time to think about whether it's obvious or not, but she doesn't care. It shouldn't surprise her that Raven will be attending the wedding, or will be one of the bridesmaids, because Raven's always been close to the family. She's always been like family to them. It just feels like that was a whole other lifetime. Clarke thinks about Raven often, she thinks about everything, she just hasn't talked about her or said her name to anyone in a long time. She tries to seem normal about it, to Kane. Tries to make it seem like it doesn't bother her, or surprise her, that Raven will be here, but she's not sure he believes it. She doesn't even believe it.

"Raven's going to the wedding?"

"Yeah, she is." he nods. "She was reluctant at first, now she's just excited for us. That's okay, right? Your mother seemed to think it would be fine."

"Um, yeah. Of course I'm going to be a bridesmaid for my mother's wedding. Of course."

"Great. That's great, Clarke. It'll make your mother so happy to hear." he says, then a smile broadens across his face. "I wish we could have done this in person."

Clarke returns the smile as much as she can right now. "I'm glad it will make her happy."

"Why don't you come for dinner one night this week? I can email you the address if you forgot. Remember, I make a mean spaghetti." he smiles. "How's Tuesday night?"

She looks over at her work schedule on her desk, then sort of shakes her head. "No, I can't. I work late on Tuesdays."

"That's fine." he says, still smiling. "How's Wednesday night?"

Wednesday night isn't usually a busy one for Clarke, sometimes she stays in and draws, and sometimes she goes to Arcadia. That's where she used to go. Now, her Wednesday nights - and a lot of her other week nights - consist of catching up on the things around her apartment she didn't do before work, and drawing. Clarke checks her schedule and calendar on her desk. She's free, and she knows she's free too, and as much as she does want to see her Mom and Kane again, there's still a part of her that feels uncertain about all of this.

Things are slowly beginning to feel normal again and it's a little weird. She's deep in her thoughts again when she remembers that she's on a video call with Kane and looks back to the screen. She fixes another smile on her face but even though he seems a little concerned now, he doesn't say it, or show it, or do anything that would make her feel bad or uncomfortable for getting lost in her thoughts again.

"Actually, Tuesday's fine with me. Tuesday's fine."

"Okay?" he smiles. "Fantastic. Abby will be thrilled. See you around 6? We can talk more then."

"Sounds good, Kane." she answers, and when he waves to her from the screen she waves back. "Bye."

"Bye, Clarke."

The video chat ends and Clarke retreats to the kitchen, where she finishes sorting through her mail and replying to any unanswered emails or texts that needed to be answered. It feels productive. Clarke cleans the apartment properly for a while, then when she's almost done she takes care of some washing and returns to her bedroom to wait until it's finished. Clarke collapses on her bed, drags her art book over and tries to continue the painting of the sunset. It doesn't really work. She tries to draw the stars, or sketch down the face she's never seen but dreams of some nights, but that isn't clear either. She counts the pages left in the book from her dad, it's overused, she's used almost every single spare patch of white paper - even if it was occupied by another sketch or drawing - because it's special to her, and she wants to use it until it feels completely used. Like she got everything out of it that she could possibly get, and then a little more.

It's hard not to think about her him, especially at a time like this but Clarke still tries to distract herself. Since she can't paint the sunset, or the stars, or the face that she can't see yet, Clarke tries something new instead. She picks colors at random, mixes them in her painting palette, and then she gently guides her brushes across the empty easels that haven't been used yet. This works. She's not sure what the colors are, or what it all means. Sometimes she never knows. There are a lot of dark colors here, it's a messy blur of faded and striking colors that somehow blends together right. It works. Clarke keeps working on it, and even when she spills paint on her bed-sheets or on herself, she keeps painting - because it's one of the first thing she's been able to paint without thinking about in such a long time, and even though it isn't clear and she'll probably end up throwing it out, it feels different. It feels like progress.

 

 

***

 

 

MONDAY - APRIL 4

 

 

[7:31 PM]:

So how was your work thing, Lexa?

 

 

_[7:36 PM]:_

_?_

 

 

[7:38 PM]:

Last week. Thursday night - remember?

 

[7:39 PM]:

You couldn't talk long because you had a work thing.

 

[7:39 PM]:

If you don't remember, I'm pretty sure your phone would have message history. Right?

 

 

_[7:45 PM]:_

_Yes, to both. I remember, and it does keep the history of conversations._

 

_[7:47 PM]:_

_The work thing was fine, Clarke._

 

_[7:49 PM]:_

_Why?_

 

 

[7:51 PM]:

.. **..**

 

[7:56 PM]:

It's Monday, I haven't heard anything from you since Thursday.

 

[7:57 PM]:

I wondered if maybe the work thing didn't go so well.

 

 

_[8:01 PM]:_

_It went well._

 

 

[8:05 PM]:

Ok, that's good Lexa.

 

[8:06 PM]:

How are you healing up? From your..mugging.

 

 

_[8:08 PM]:_

_Better. Thank you, Clarke._

 

_[8:09 PM]:_

_How are things with you?_

 

 

[8:11 PM]:

Better too, I think.

 

[8:11 PM]:

Sort of.

 

[8:12 PM]:

I have this dinner thing tomorrow night. I'm a little stressed about it.

 

[8:14 PM]:

It's with my Mom & her fiancé. I haven't seen them in a while.

 

[8:18 PM]:

Things were different the last time we saw each other.

 

 

_[8:24 PM]:_

_What part exactly are you stressed about, Clarke?_

 

_[8:24 PM]:_

_That things won't be the same anymore? Or they will be?  
_

 

 

[8:31 PM]:

Yeah...Thank you for that, Lexa. I hadn't really thought about those too much.

 

[8:31 PM]:

I was more concerned/stressed about how I was going to be around them.

 

[8:32 PM]:

It's different, I'm different. I think my Mom wants it to be the same but it's not.

 

 

_[8:39 PM]:_

_What does she expect to be the same?_

 

 

[8:40 PM]:

Me.

 

 

_[8:42 PM]:_

_What do you mean? Are you different now, Clarke?_

 

 

[8:51 PM]:

I'm worried she'll expect me to be completely happy.

 

[8:51 PM]:

Or she'll want me to be who I was before. I don't think I can live up to those expectations.

 

 

_[9:10 PM]:_

_The only expectations you have to live up to are your own._

 

_[9:10 PM]:_

_No one else._

 

_[9:11 PM]:_

_Your mom will understand._

 

 

[9:15 PM]:

I hope so.

 

[9:16 PM]:

Thanks for your advice, Lexa.

 

 

_[9:21 PM]:_

_You're welcome, Clarke._

 

 

[9:25 PM]:

.. **..**

 

[9:29 PM]:

There's something else.

 

 

_[9:34 PM]:_

_Yes, Clarke?_

 

 

[9:36 PM]:

Fact: The name Lexa has Greek origins. It comes from Alexein "to defend/help" and "adros" man.

 

[9:37 PM]:

So it means defender.

 

[9:38 PM]:

I think you're in the right career path, Lexa. Defending/helping people. It suits you.

 

 

_[9:41 PM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[9:51 PM]:_

_I didn't know that._

 

_[9:52 PM]:_

_That's interesting, Clarke. Thank you for sharing that._

 

 

[9:59 PM]:

It's okay. It's a nice name and I wanted to know the meaning of it.

 

 

_[10:05 PM]:_

_Why?_

 

 

[10:09 PM]:

I was just curious.

 

[10:11 PM]:

(and a little bored at work)

 

 

_[10:22 PM]:_

_You mentioned that you loved art. Didn't you, Clarke?_

 

 

[10:25 PM]:

Yeah. I probably did.

 

[10:27 PM]:

Why?

 

 

_[10:45 PM]:_

_You clearly aren't in the wrong line of work._

 

_[10:45 PM]:_

_You're just in the wrong place, that's all._

 

_[10:46 PM]:_

_Why do you continue to work there if you dislike it so much?_

 

 

[10:51 PM]:

Because it's a job.

 

[10:53 PM]:

And we don't all get the luxury to pick what we want to do.

 

[10:54 PM]:

I need the money. It's not always bad there. It's just felt like I've been unlucky, lately..

 

[11:01 PM]:

Maybe one day I'll be able to leave. For now, I have to stay. I need the money.

 

 

_[11:09 PM]:_

_Fair enough, Clarke._

 

_[11:12 PM]:_

_Good luck with dinner tomorrow night._

 

 

[11:13 PM]:

Thanks, Lexa.

 

[11:16 PM]:

Night.

 

 

_[11:41 PM]:_

_Clarke?_

 

 

[11:49 PM]:

Yeah?

 

[12:01 AM]:

What's up, Lexa?

 

 

_[12:21 AM]:_

_Maybe one day you'll be able to leave_

 

_[12:25 AM]:_

_And maybe one day you'll be happy again_

 

_[12:26 AM]:_

_Happiness is rare. I hope you find it again._

 

 

***

 

 

TUESDAY - APRIL 5

 

 

There doesn't feel like there's enough wine in the world to help Clarke feel relaxed about tonight.

Kane refills Abby's glass, and then Clarke's, and then he leaves to check on dinner while Abby leaves to retrieve something from her room to show Clarke. It feels like too much, but they haven't had dinner yet, so she knows she'll have to stick it out for a little while. Clarke's eyes dart over to the clock on the wall, and she realizes she's only been here for about an hour now. It feels longer. And it's not that the night isn't going well, because so far it seems to be. It's just that Clarke can't control her feelings or thoughts on this as well as hoped she would, or convinced herself she could.

It feels like she's playing a role, or like it's too weird, being back here with them and having wine, and dinner, and talking about work like nothing ever interrupted them doing this. It doesn't help that they'll occasionally glance at her like they think she's still fragile, or like she's going to break at any mentions of Finn, or anyone else from that time in her life. It also doesn't help that the apartment is filled with memories that Clarke had thought she'd forgotten, or left behind. The living room holds memories of laughter, and wine, and nights spent here with family and friends. Once, it had been so loud and bursting with laughter and now it just feels quieter. Clarke doesn't know how to go back.

Their temporary absence in the room gives Clarke the chance to reach for her phone. She types up a quick message and sends it off, not really having to think about it for long because it's been on her mind all night. She slides the phone away once the message has been sent, and right after that Abby returns with the necklace she wanted to tell Clarke. It's a beautiful one, gifted to her from Kane on their anniversary this year. It's a thin, silver tree crafted gracefully around a stone of silver in the middle. It's elegant, and it seems like Abby. She ties it around her neck happily, and smiles at Clarke as Kane returns to the room with dinner.

Against Clarke's knee, she suddenly feels the _bzzz_ of her phone, vibrating with an unread message. She leaves it there for now, and picks up her glass of wine to help her ease back into normal conversation. She knows they're just trying to make things feel normal again, and she's trying to, but it also feels like they don't mind if it doesn't go back to exactly how it was. They seem happy she's here, and underneath her feelings and memories of this place, she's happy to see them too.

The conversation shifts from work, to the weather, to something a little more serious.

"I meant to talk to you about this the other day when we talked on Skype, but I forgot. It's about work, and about the city." Abby tells her, between a sip of wine. "Are you carrying mace with you, Clarke? Or any kind of spray, or weapon--"

"Mom, it's fine. I'm okay. I live in a safe part of the city, and I know everyone in my building almost." Clarke's reply comes back quickly. "And you know how close to Arcadia I live. If I need somewhere to stay, I can go there. I'm fine, you don't have to worry about that."

"I still think you should carry something. Just recently, I had to treat this young girl that had been attached. Her things were stolen, she was beaten badly, but she wasn't interested in talking to the police, so they might not have caught whoever did that. I just want you to be safe, and careful. That's all. I don't want that to happen to you."

"It's okay, Mom. I'll be careful."

"I know you will, it just made me worry. Be safe."

Clarke nods quickly and catches a glimpse of her phone lighting up with a new message. She leaves it untouched for now, and listens as the conversation around her quickly changes topic. First, to Kane's work. Then to Abby's. And then it circles back to Clarke and her work at the gallery.

"So, you said things are going well at work, Clarke?" Abby asks, curiously.

Another nod. Clarke scoops a mouthful of food on her fork, and chews on it for a minute before speaking. "Yeah, things are busy. But it's good. Have you guys thought much about what you'll do after the wedding? I mean, holiday plans. Work. All of that."

Kane smiles. "Well, I'll be taking some time off work around the wedding and after so I'll be home more. We miss each other a lot with our busy jobs, so I'm just trying to take more time away from work to be there."

"I tried convincing him not to, I said they'd need him but he insisted. So, I won't pretend I'm not happy with that." Abby says, smiling with him. "I can't pretend I'm not looking forward to spend more time with him. Also, we're thinking about Hawaii for the honeymoon."

"Wow. Hawaii. That will be beautiful." Clarke smiles slowly. "Sounds lovely. Send me pictures? I'd love to see it all."

"Of course, Clarke." Abby nods encouragingly. "You know, I talked to Kane and he said you want to be a bridesmaid. I meant to ask you myself, but I wasn't sure about the timing. And I just want you to know that I'm so happy. I can email you with the details when we'll be looking at the dresses. If you want to come to try some on, you're welcome to. And if you don't then that's fine, everything always looks so beautiful on you, Clarke."

"I'll be there." Clarke shakes her head, and answers quickly. She wishes she would've thought about it before agreeing. "I'd love to be there."

Something in Abby's smile brightens a little more. "Fantastic. I'll email you and let you know the date and places we're looking at."

With a smile and a more convincing nod, Clarke finishes up her meal and they somehow manage to direct the conversation on to a lighter, easier topic. Kane offers to clean up at the end to let the two of them catch up, and for a while they do, but then Abby receives a call from the hospital and she excuses herself. It gives Clarke time to explore the apartment she once spent so much time in. It's large, sleek and elegant. With wide glass windows all around them, and sliding doors that step out on to a large balcony overlooking the city.

There are concrete seats out here, covered with plush, soft cushions. And there's a little garden out here, bursting with as much life and color as it can. Clarke settles on leaning against the railing, and she takes a few minutes to look down at the city while Kane and Abby finish up inside. The skyline is busy and still at the same time. Her eyes fix on the passing lights of traffic, before she reminds herself of the messages she received.

Clarke discovers **(6)** **unread messages** on her phone all from Lexa, and **(1) missed call**. She frowns, swipes the phone open and quickly clicks open the messages.

 

 

_[7:06 PM]:_

_Yes?_

 

_[7:15 PM]:_

_Well what is it, Clarke?_

 

_[7:21 PM]:_

_Clarke?_

 

_[7:22 PM]:_

_Is something wrong? Are you hurt, Clarke?_

 

_[7:31 PM]:_

_You're concerning me. Did something happen to you?_

 

_[7:32 PM]:_

_Clarke I'm calling you. Pick up._

 

 

[8:01 PM]:

Lexa everything's fine

 

[8:02 PM]:

I'm okay. I'm sorry if I worried you

 

[8:05 PM]:

It wasn't anything serious, I just thought I needed something

 

 

_[8:06 PM]:_

_What?_

 

 

[8:10 PM]:

A distraction, maybe

 

[8:11 PM]:

I have that dinner tonight. I thought I needed a distraction but it's okay now

 

[8:11 PM]:

I'm sorry if I concerned you, Lexa. I couldn't get to my phone until now

 

 

_[8:21 PM]:_

_I'm not  a service, Clarke. I'm not here to be your daily distraction._

 

 

Clarke's about halfway through typing back a reply, that she's not really sure about, when she hears Kane join her on the balcony. She puts the phone down and looks up, expecting him to be smiling or at least happy to see her. But there's no smile on his face, and he suddenly seems serious and solemn. She instantly has a bad feeling.

"Something's happen, Clarke. It's Lincoln, he was injured."

The phone almost slips out of Clarke's hand. She tightens her hold on it and takes a step closer, whatever reply she was thinking of for Lexa slips out of her mind, and the only thing that she can think about right now is _this_ , and Lincoln, and then Octavia. It almost feels harder to breathe. Clarke takes a few more steps closer, and tries to let herself speak, but her throat feels like it's so tight that she can only get a few words out.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

"I don't know. Abby just got the call, he was admitted to a hospital after being injured at work." Kane says. "He was on a security detail when something went wrong. Your Mom's ready to go down there. She wasn't sure if you should know, I said you had the right to. Do you want a lift down there with us? We're going now."

Clarke nods quickly, and all the reservations or doubts she used to have about seeing her friends again after such a long time just disappear because it suddenly doesn't matter. It isn't about her, this is about Lincoln, and if he's okay, and it doesn't matter what she feels about this. There's no doubt at all for Clarke, and she doesn't hesitate at all because she has to be there for him, and for them.

"Yes, of course, Kane. Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so life got in the way but i am so sorry for not updating sooner. i feel terrible, forgive me. ❤❤
> 
> and enjoy. xx

Clarke | _Lexa_

and this means someone is typing; .. **..**

 

***

TUESDAY - APRIL 5

 

 

There are at least one hundred things going through Clarke's mind when she arrives at the hospital with Kane and Abby. She can't keep track of it all. The thoughts all seem to branch out and slip away, only to return to her minutes later. It all feels rushed, like a blurry haze of the past and present colliding. It's easier to just follow Kane and Abby than to pay much attention to where they're going. Clarke stays close behind them, following Abby as she approaches a desk to ask about Lincoln. It feels like there's nothing she can do to quiet her mind, or stop the buzzing of thoughts and voices that linger there, following her around the corridors and desks she's probably passed before.

She's been here before but for different reasons. Now it's not about that, it's not about her, and what this place has meant to her before. She waits back with Kane, while Abby's talking to the woman behind the desk. Kane glances in her direction, briefly, then he must realize _it_. He must notice that this is too much, or too similar to what they've been through before, because a second later he's removing his coat and placing it over her shoulders. It warms her up immediately. He smiles at her, keeps an arm on her shoulder, and stays there, close, and supporting her. It feels like support, it feels like more than she's had in a while, and she wants to say something. She doesn't thank him, doesn't get the chance to, before Abby's back and they're moving away again in the direction of Lincoln's room. They pass corridors, and patients, and faces Clarke can't really focus on and it feels like they're getting closer. It all feels too much like a memory for Clarke, at first, but she knows that now isn't the time for those thoughts. It's not about her, or what she's been through. Tonight is about Lincoln, and Octavia, and --

_And_ there they are. She sees Octavia first, hugging a tall, bearded man in a brown coat. There are several people around her that Clarke doesn't recognize, and it makes her realize that everyone else must still be on their way here. She sees Bellamy next. He turns the corner from the waiting room and comes into view in the corridor, and as soon as he sees her he's walking towards her. Octavia glances in their direction next, and Kane leaves with Abby to greet her. Clarke feels like something's pulling her to _this_ spot on the floor, like she can't move closer, she can't. Bellamy hugs Abby and Kane, on his way past them, and then he's in front of Clarke, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

"You're here." he sighs, when his arms are wrapped around her. "I didn't know if you'd come."

"Of course I'm here. It's Lincoln. Of course I'll always be here." she answers quietly.

A moment passes and they pull away, but Bellamy lingers. "I didn't mean it like that."

Clarke nods quickly, stretching to put an uncertain arm against his shoulder. He seems shaken by this, and understandably so. Lincoln's family to him, to all of them. It's more than either of them can put into words - and it's something that Clarke understands, almost, in her own kind of way. She just knows that this is so much different, and it's about Lincoln, it's not about Finn. It's not going to end like that did, she silently tells herself. Lincoln will survive this, she believes it fully, and then she looks back to Bellamy and realizes that he's determined to believe it too. He wants to believe it so badly because of what Octavia and Lincoln have, and what they are together. They're soulmates, and best-friends, and they should always be together.

Bellamy squeezes the side of Clarke's arm and tries to speak again. He seems tired - exhausted, and drained from the worry. She keeps her arm against him too, to hopefully steady him and to somehow show him, with a gesture as simple as this, that she's here. Any distance in the last months doesn't matter, not when it comes to moments like these. She'll always be here for them, and she'll always do whatever she can for them. _Always_.

"I know you didn't. I know, Bellamy. And it's okay. How are you doing? How's everyone?"

"I'm so glad you're here. O will be so relieved. That you're all here for her. For them."

"What happened? Is he okay?" Clarke asks, wrapping her arms around herself.

Bellamy's voice quietens, and he takes a step closer. "He was injured out on the job, in his security detail. Something about a bullet, I didn't catch it all from O. We're waiting to know more soon." he pauses. "We will know more soon, Clarke. And it's all gonna be okay."

Then he stretches a hand, places it on her side and starts to guide her over to the group that's scattered around them. Octavia catches Clarke's wandering gaze as she nears and hesitates, but then she's there, hugging Clarke in the same way that Bellamy did. She admires their strength. All of their strength. Clarke wraps her arms around Octavia and hugs her back, hugs her tightly, to let her know that she's not alone and that Lincoln will be okay. She hopes that's what the hug conveys, anyway.

"He's a fighter. He'll survive this, whatever it is, and he'll come out stronger." Clarke assures her, when they separate. "You know he will. He has so much to fight for and he'll do that. He's doing just that right now."

Octavia barely manages a smile, it slips away immediately, and it makes Clarke realize how different she seems now to how she was. Despite this she's still the same, strong Octavia that Clarke's always known and always will now.

"I know, but it's hard. It's hard because of what he's been through, Clarke." her reply comes shortly. "I don't know about this time. I have a bad feeling."

" _Hey_ , it's going to be okay." Bellamy appears. He pulls her into another embrace. "Trust me, he's got this. He's fighting through it to see you again, you know that. So if you're doubting anything else right now, fine. But don't doubt how strong his love is for you, and what that means for him."

Quietly, Clarke steps away to give them a moment alone to embrace. She's just about to join Abby and Kane when a doctor approaches, steps aside with Octavia, and then they wait. They wait for what feels like _years_ , and she knows her waiting is nothing compared to what Octavia's feeling right now, and then it's over. Octavia makes a quiet noise and clutches on to Bellamy, and for the next few seconds it's difficult to tell if it's a noise of relief or not. Then Bellamy looks over his shoulder and nods at the group- and there's so much relief over his face that she knows it's good news before the words even slip through his lips

"He's okay, he's going to be okay. Lincoln's lost a lot of blood, but he'll be fine." Bellamy tells them. "He's going to make a full recovery."

Relief floods in around them. Clarke feels Abby squeeze her shoulders from nearby, and then Kane and Abby hug, and leave to get some coffee for everyone because it already feels like it's going to be a long night. Clarke watches the group around her embracing, and smiling, and it makes her chest swell with happiness and relief for them all. And for herself. She moves over to the wall to lean against it, releases that _heavy_ breath she'd been holding when they first heard about the accident, and she looks away for a second to see a new figure approaching them.

It's a woman, clad in black and dark colors. Her eyes are set _forward_ , like they're on a destination, not a person -- and her long, light brown hair is pulled back into braids that Clarke finds herself quietly fascinated by. She meets Clarke's gaze for half a second, then keeps walking. Shortly after that Kane and Abby return with coffees, and Clarke takes a cup and decides she'll step outside for some air, now that things are all okay and that there's only relief in their little waiting room.

There are still so many things going through Clarke's head right now, things she can't ignore, _old_ memories and thoughts that linger and seep back in. Temporarily. Some are more permanent. They seep in through the walls she's put around herself tonight, to be here for them. She knows they'll come out stronger from this, and she feels nothing but happiness for them, but of course what she's been through and what she lost leaves her feeling tired. By it all, by _everything_. She leaves, catches Bellamy's attention, and asks him to tell Octavia she'll be back, she's just stepping outside to make a phone call. He doesn't believe her and he seems concerned about her, but he agrees anyway and promises her they can talk properly later. Clarke leaves the hospital and exits through a door, ending up in a secured section of the hospital that she's just glad to be standing outside in.

Outside it's colder and silent, she needs the silence for just a minute or two. Clarke folds her arms around herself, walks out across the little patch of concrete in the smoking area outside the hospital (it's probably for the staff, she thinks, but doesn't care that much because she won't be out here for long). Then a few minutes pass and the door opens behind her. She expects it to be someone telling her she shouldn't be out here but it's not. It's the woman from the corridor, and there's already and unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth.

She stops, looks at Clarke, then lets the door shut loudly behind her. There are faint bruises and markings along her jaw and cheek, Clarke realizes, but doesn't look _too_ closely as the woman narrows her eyes on Clarke and steps down on the pavement. She lights the cigarette, inhales, then turns back to find Clarke still watching her.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks, voice flat. "Did you want a smoke, or something?"

"No, and those aren't good for you. I don't even know if this is the designated smoking area, or what."

There's silence, followed by a frown across the woman's face. "Do you work here?"

" _Uhh_ , no. No I don't, I don't work here." Clarke pauses. "We just saw each other. I'm with Lincoln's friends. Do you know them? Are you friends with Octavia?"

"No, I know Lincoln."

"So you heard he's going to be okay. Didn't you?"

"Yes."

Clarke glances away slowly, unsure of what to say next. So she steps towards the door and turns to leave, but it feels like something pulls her back, just for one more second. "Alright. Don't let me disturb you while your ruin your body with those things."

"Lincoln was shot. He could've died. I hardly think that _me_ having a smoke is the biggest concern right now."

It's silent for about half a second until Clarke leaves. She pulls the door open, leaves it to shut behind her, and returns to find Kane and Abby sitting inside waiting for her. She offers them her most convincing smile upon her return and they seem to believe it, though she's never really sure with those two. But tonight's really not the time for those thoughts. It's about Lincoln and Octavia, and being there for them. So that's exactly what Clarke does. She pushes it all out again and focuses on  _now_. She only wonders occasionally (during the pauses of conversation or thoughts) what happened with Lexa tonight. And then she wonders why she cares so much already.

 

 

***

   


  
WEDNESDAY - APRIL 6

 

 

The familiar _'bzzz_ ' comes from Clarke's phone just after 2 in the morning and it surprises her that she's not annoyed by it. It's late but she doesn't care that her phone light bursts everywhere inside her bedroom because she wasn't sleeping anyway (and tonight,  _well_  today actually, it's almost blindingly bright, and there's no way it can be ignored, but she doesn't want to). She reaches for it, swipes it off the nightstand and glances over the words. Silently she's glad for the distraction from the thoughts of the hospital, and Finn, and _everything_ that's stayed with her and replayed from her mind since they got the call. She thinks of the scars, and the glass, and the blood across them.

Clarke's eyes shut before reading the message and she waits, trying to keep the thoughts again but sometimes it's hard. It's like they're heavy, _like_ rain, and they always find ways to seep through any cracks or holes in her, to get at her. They're not always bad thoughts, it's just difficult to not think about it after a night like tonight. Soon Clarke opens the message, quietly glad to hear from Lexa. She's been on her mind for hours.

 

 

_[2:12 AM]:_

_are you okay clarke?_

 

 

Clarke blinks at the words, first. Then she wonders why Lexa's up this late - or, actually, why she's up this early - but then she realizes she's up this early too. There's part of her that wants to ask Lexa _why_ she's texting her, after the way their last conversation ended. But instead, she waits and re-reads the message while she wonders what to say back. She wants to say _no_ , she's not okay. It's been a rough night, and it's nothing compared to what Lincoln and Octavia have been through but it's still rough. She still feels tired by the weight of it all. But she doesn't type that up because it would take too long, and she doesn't really know Lexa. Not really. She doesn't want to burden her with this, it feels like she's already burdened her with too much. She keeps it simple.

 

 

[2:25 AM]:

yeah I guess. are you ok lexa?

 

 

There's a reply within seconds.

 

 

_[2:25 AM]:_

_i guess im okay too_

 

 

[2:27 AM]:

are you sure about that? you're up late/early. and seem..different

 

[2:28 AM]:

i know im not always the best person to take advice from

 

[2:28 AM]:

but it's ok to not be ok... what's up?

 

 

_[2:29 AM]:_

_.. **..**_

 

_[2:31 AM]:_

_it was just a long day and night. that's all_

 

_[2:35 AM]:_

_there is something else i'd like to talk to you about. if that's okay_

 

 

[2:38 AM]:

sure. what is it?

 

 

And it happens again. Clarke barely has to wait for Lexa's reply and it makes her wonder about it all again. She wonders w _hy_ she's up at almost 3 in the morning thinking about this, or about her, and why it even matters that she needs to clarify what happened earlier. It's nothing, it's _fine_. Everything's fine now that Lincoln is okay. That's what matters. Clarke breathes in slowly, as her eyes scan the reply and she studies the words. It still makes her question what happened with Lexa, to prompt all of this, because it's really late to be talking about these kinds of things. So of course, it leaves her with a few questions.

 

 

_[2:39 AM]:_

_i came across as harsh earlier. i was stressed and i may have taken that out on you_

 

_[2:39 AM]:_

_so if i angered or upset you with my response then i apologize_

 

_[2:41 AM]:_

_i'd thought something might have happened to you and then i found out all you needed was a distraction.._

 

_[2:41 AM]:_

_well, i'm sorry_

 

 

Tiredly, and with a quiet feeling _there_ , resting in her chest, Clarke pulls the blankets up over her shoulders and rolls with them. So they're covering her completely and she's now resting on her side. She's supposed to work tomorrow but she doubts she'll make it in, and decides she'll call in sick to work - or explain the situation, as best as she can - because she doesn't really know how she'll be able to work after tonight.

It's easier replying to this, for some reason. Maybe it's because Clarke's been thinking about it all night, and all of the things she wanted to say back to Lexa's message but never did. She wants Lexa to know that it's more than that, that she's not just a distraction, she's just good company. Clarke doesn't even know how to start that, so she starts with something smaller. The smaller things are always easier to start with. She starts with something she's needed to say since they last spoke.

 

 

[2:46 AM]:

it's okay lexa. i understand and i'm sorry if i upset you or worried you. i wish i had answered you sooner.

 

 

_[2:48 AM]:_

_you don't_

 

 

[2:51 AM]:

don't... what?

 

 

_[2:52 AM]:_

_understand_

 

_[2:52 AM]:_

_and that's okay, you don't have to_

 

_[3:01 AM]:_

_i just needed you to know or understand that i'm sorry if i came off as cold towards you_

 

_[3:01 AM]:_

_i took my stresses out on you and i shouldn't have_

 

 

[3:05 AM]:

it's okay, it really is. i get it, i had a rough night too. there's nothing to apologize for, ok?

 

[3:06 AM]:

i just hope you're okay now

 

 

_[3:08 AM]:_

_i am . it wasn't a rough night for me_

 

_[3:08 AM]:_

_tell me what happened with you_

 

_[3:11 AM]:_

_how was dinner with your mom?_

 

 

It's hard to type it up - it's even harder to _try_ to think about summarizing dinner with Kane and Abby. And then, to somehow include what happened after at the hospital. She deletes her reply several times before sending one off.

 

 

[3:15 AM]:

lexa it's late. i don't want to keep you awake

 

[3:17 AM]:

i appreciate you asking, i do. but i understand that you need your sleep

 

 

_[3:20 AM]:_

_sometimes i have difficulty sleeping_

 

_[3:21 AM]:_

_tonight will be another of those nights, i think..._

 

_[3:22 AM]:_

_so tell me about your dinner tonight, i'd like to know._

 

 

[3:29 AM]:

it was fine and .. normal. for a while. then it wasn't. a friend of ours was injured.

 

[3:32 AM]:

they're okay now, i got home a few hours ago. i just can't sleep.

 

[3:32 AM]:

there's something i wanted to tell you lexa

 

 

_[3:33 AM]:_

_yes?_

 

 

[3:34 AM]:

if you felt like you were just a distraction i'm sorry

 

[3:35 AM]:

i obviously never meant to put you in that situation or make you feel that way

 

[3:35 AM]:

you're not just a distraction to me and i never meant to leave you feeling like that

 

[3:36 AM]:

and if you do feel like you're a distraction for me (and that it's not a bad thing) then i'll be one for you

 

[3:36 AM]:

like now if you need to talk about it or about anything else, i think i'm okay at giving advice

 

[3:36 AM]:

that's all

 

 

_[3:37 AM]:_

_it's fine clarke_

 

 

_[3:37 AM]:_

_can we talk about other things?_

 

 

[3:37 AM]:

of course

 

 

Then Clarke's fingers hesitate over the keys and she types up the truth for Lexa, something she hasn't shared with anyone, it's something she only carried with herself for _so_ long. She writes it up to share it with her, in a way she hopes might help Lexa, or at least show her that she's not alone in her struggles to sleep some nights.

 

 

[3:37 AM]:

you said some nights you couldn't sleep

 

 

_[3:38 AM]:_

_yes, i can't some nights. why?_

 

 

[3:38 AM]:

me too

 

 

[3:39 AM]:

some nights i don't even sleep at all. i just stay awake for hours and think.

 

 

_[3:41 AM]:_

_what do you think about?_

 

 

At _almost_ 4 AM in the morning it feels dark and heavy, and like Lexa's had a really bad day and could use something to brighten it up now. Clarke decides she'll try to brighten it with words. It may not be enough but it's something - and it feels better than the alternative, which would be telling Lexa what she thinks about. Sometimes, on the nights that Clarke can't sleep, she replays it all in her mind again. She replays the memories, the moments - the smiles, laughs, and the sound of glass shattering and tyres screeching - and it always ends up feeling hopeless and tiring. It's not something she wants to talk about right now, and it definitely doesn't feel like something that Lexa would want to talk about _so_ late and after such a rough day. So Clarke pushes it all back and thinks of something that she hopes will make Lexa smile.

 

 

[3:45 AM]:

you ...

 

[3:46 AM]:

i see you as a raccoon

 

[3:47 AM]:

sometimes i laugh. sometimes it haunts me

 

[3:47 AM]:

and then there are times you're falling

 

[3:48 AM]:

jumping as a raccoon . with no restraints. free

 

[3:52 AM]:

imagine it

 

[3:59 AM]:

imagine it lexa

 

 

This reply takes a little longer to come back. The little dots appear several times, like Lexa's typing back but doesn't quite know what to say. It makes Clarke wonder if it worked and if somewhere right now Lexa is smiling because of her. She hopes she's smiling.

 

 

_[4:02 AM]:_

_you know you're not funny_

 

_[4:02 AM]:_

_and you know those jokes aren't funny_

 

_[4:02 AM]:_

_don't you?_

 

_[4:03 AM]:_

_someone must have said something to you_

 

_[4:04 AM]:_

_they must have told you how terrible your 'humor' is_

 

 

[4:10 AM]:

be honest with me right now lexa

 

[4:11 AM]:

you smiled. you totally smiled right now

 

[4:12 AM]:

you're smiling right now aren't you?

 

Then Clarke feels herself smile. It tugs on the corners of her lips and spreads into an easy, small smile. She smiles, leans back against the pillows, and watches as the replies roll in. It stirs something quiet in her chest.

 

 

_[4:13 AM]:_

_you're clearly sleep deprived_

 

_[4:14 AM]:_

_it's having an effect on your thoughts / what you think is funny_

 

_[4:16 AM]:_

_in the morning you'll look back and see that it wasn't_

 

 

[4:20 AM]:

it was kinda funny. wasn't it?

 

 

_[4:25 AM]:_

_yes it was Clarke_

 

 

[4:29 AM]:

:-)

 

 

_[4:31 AM]:_

_go to sleep, we can talk later today. are you working today?_

 

 

[4:41 AM]:

i hope not because we're both going to be so tired tomorrow

 

[4:41 AM]:

? i meant today

 

[4:42 AM]:

i'll let you know if i'm working today. are you?

 

 

_[4:47 AM]:_

_no i'm not_

 

_[4:49 AM]:_

_i'll talk to you then. good night Clarke_

 

 

[4:50 AM]:

night lexa

 

 

_[4:50 AM]:_

_the stars_

 

 

[4:50 AM]:

? what

 

 

_[4:51 AM]:_

_i wasn't finished_

 

 

[4:51 AM]:

then why send it??

 

 

_[4:51 AM]:_

_my thumb slipped on the 'send' button._

 

_[4:51 AM]:_

_it's almost 5 AM and I've almost been awake for 24 hrs._

 

_[4:52 AM]:_

_what i was going to say was dream of the stars_

 

_[4:53 AM]:_

_dream of the stars if you can't sleep. sometimes that helps me_

 

_[5:00 AM]:_

_i thought it might help you to sleep if you thought of them too_

 

 

[5:07 AM]:

thank you xxxx

 

[5:09 AM]:

i hope you dream of the stars too

 

 

_[5:11 AM]:_

_xxx_

 

 

And that's what Clarke tries to do. She switches off the screen of her phone, leaves it on the nightstand (so it's too far out of reach, beneath the comfort of the blankets, that she won't be tempted to reach for it and text Lexa back), and she thinks. Clarke's eyes shut tiredly and at first she can picture the stars. She imagines herself beneath them, on something cool, _somewhere_ faraway. Somewhere soft and still. She's there beneath the stars for a little while until they start to change. It happens slowly and Clarke's not sure why, but they start to blend around a face. It's one she's not really sure that she's seen before but it feels familiar. It's not clear, just the structure of it is -- starry eyes, wavy hair-- and the stars fade in around the features until it's gone and she's left with the stars again. Distant, but still close in their own way. Still there, shining on quietly and with their own kind of beauty.

It feels peaceful.


End file.
